


Freaky Friday Came Early

by Anduril_Narsil549



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Bodyswap, Cuddling, Dissociation, Family Shenanigans, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attack, Pit Rage, Pranks, Tags will continue to be added, Tea, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Whump, absolute chaos, competitions, references to noncon, unintentional self-harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:06:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27210166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anduril_Narsil549/pseuds/Anduril_Narsil549
Summary: "Nightwing, you are clearly not fine. Your emotional outbursts--""Emotional outbursts? I'll show you emotional--""Are reminiscent of Hood's antics."Dick felt Tim shift his attention back to him, as if waiting for some response to that. Jason's--it had to be Jason, right? Even though his voice was so strange? Jason's response to Damian precluded Dick from saying anything."What do you mean reminiscent? How can I be reminiscent of myself?""Nightwing, you're--""Shut it brat. Hey Nightwing?"Dick lifted his face to look over toward Jason. "Yeah?"He froze. He was looking at...Himself?And the look on his face was exactly what he was feeling right now. Pure, unadulterated confusion. In a split moment, it became adulterated with horror as the realization dawned."Shi--"AKA Jason and Dick swap bodies, and this fic is purely to enjoy the chaos that would ensue XD
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Comments: 155
Kudos: 564





	1. Magicians on a Tuesday Are the Literal Worst

**Author's Note:**

> So this is mostly me wanting to write quality sibling shenanigans between the batboys, and probably is self-indulgent fluff, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway XD

The first thing Dick noticed was the incredible throbbing bass drum in his head.

Wait--that was his heartbeat. Why was his heart being so noisy?

The next thing he noticed was how _stiff_ he felt.

"Hey, Hood, can you hear me?" A hand gripped his arm, and another brushed his forehead.

A moan escaped his lips.

"C'mon, open your eyes you big oaf." _Oaf?_ That must be Tim.

Taking a deep breath, Dick pried one eye open. It settled on Red Robin's face, creased with worry, a bit too close to his own. Before he could say anything though, a bright light flashed in both of his eyes, sending piercing pain through his head. He pinched his eyes closed again for a moment, sucking in a sharp breath.

"Sorry," Tim muttered. Dick gave him what he meant to be a sympathetic smile, but something close to panic briefly flashed across the younger man's face.

"Ok," Tim said slowly. "I'm going to chalk that up to you having a concussion and not that you actually want to try and kill me again." He slid his arms under Dick's shoulders and helped him sit up.

It took until he was upright for the words to compute.

"What? Red, I've never tried to kill you." His voice felt...weird. And his body moved so _slowly_. But, wrestling his pounding head into submission, he managed to look at Red Robin's face in time to see the arched eyebrow.

"And I'm officially concerned," Tim said, drawing out the first vowel. "I freaking hate tangling with magicians, especially on Tuesdays. Why are the Tuesday ones always so much more trouble?" he muttered before turning and calling, "How's Nightwing?"

"Hey, Red, you alright?" Dick asked, frowning. But his question was lost as a voice shouted.

"Why the _fuck_ do my limbs feel like melted butter?" Dick rubbed his head, not having the energy to look at the speaker. That voice was...familiar, but he couldn't place it...It certainly wasn't Jason's...

"Nightwing, your limbs _are_ melted butter." And that was Robin's voice. But why was he calling the person Nightwing? His head was so fuzzy...

"The fuck do you mean, brat? And get that light out of my face, I'm _fine_." A wave of nausea hit Dick, and he pinched his eyes closed. That sounded like Jason, but why was his voice so...different?

"Nightwing, you are clearly not fine. Your emotional outbursts--"

" _Emotional outbursts?_ I'll show you emotional--"

"Are reminiscent of Hood's antics."

Dick felt Tim shift his attention back to him, as if waiting for some response to that. Jason's--it had to be Jason, right? Even though his voice was so strange? Jason's response to Damian precluded Dick from saying anything.

"What do you mean _reminiscent_? How can I be reminiscent of myself?"

"Nightwing, you're--"

"Shut it brat. Hey Nightwing?"

Dick lifted his face to look over toward Jason. "Yeah?"

He froze. He was looking at...

Himself?

And the look on his face was exactly what he was feeling right now. Pure, unadulterated confusion. In a split moment, it became adulterated with horror as the realization dawned.

"Shit."

**

"Father will not be pleased."

After some effort (consisting of Dick and Jason having _significant_ difficulty standing and walking and in general using their new bodies. Dick was sure that Tim was going to keep the recording of it from his suit to use as blackmail later) they managed to get into the Batmobile. Damian sat in the passenger seat, scowling at the two men seated in the back. Tim drove, considering he was the only one both coordinated and tall enough to effectively do so. He kept flashing looks in the rear-view mirror, betraying the anxiety he felt at the situation.

Jason, in Dick's body, scowled at the Damian. "Forget B, _I'm_ not pleased. Have you seen what I've become? A sack of flab and Jello."

"Excuse me, you mean _handsome_ and a fine specimen of humanity with a physique sculpted by the gods." Dick rose his hand to rub his face and nearly whacked himself with a limp hand. Getting some control of it, he clumsily rubbed his face...Jason's face? This was going to get really confusing really, _really_ fast... "Besides, what about me? Seriously, how do you even _move?_ You're body's like a freaking brick. I'm surprised you don't pull a muscle every time you do anything more than breathe." Shifting, he felt the armor of Jason's outfit rub in...both a familiar and unfamiliar way. Apparently, muscle memory was something of a thing...? Then again, maybe the ten minutes he'd been in it was enough to get accustomed to it.

Jason...that was weird to think of his little brother being the person who he was looking at considering it was his own face...Jason frowned. "Some people have _normal_ muscles, Dick, unlike _you_. Brat's right, your limbs _are_ melted butter. _I'm_ surprised you don't just ooze around. Like, hot dang man, I'm so flimsy right now." Jason held up his...Dick's...arms and flopped them about. "Like, _what even._ "

"Robin, did you call B and Agent A?" Tim cut in, voice seeming a bit on the tight side, Dick thought. Wait, did this body switch thing affect how he saw people? What if that was just Jason's perception of how Tim sounded right now? Was it the same way he would perceive Tim's mood? Or what if he was perceiving things as some weird blend of himself and Jason? Like a...Jay-Dick smoothie?

He frowned. That just sounded wrong, even in his head. Though he shrugged at himself mentally. Jason never could resist making things weird with his name. So he was blaming that thought train on Jason's brain, not himself.

"Tt, what do you take me for? Of course I called them. B is taking the jet back right now, and Agent A is standing by at the cave."

"Good." Tim glanced at them in the mirror again. "How are you two feeling?"

"Fine," Jason bit out, crossing his arms. Dick opened his mouth to speak, but frowned again. Tilting his head to the side, he then turned it right, then left. "Wait, Hood, do you have hearing loss in your left ear?"

"Uh, _no_." The response was much too forceful. "Don't be an idiot. Of course I don't have hearing loss."

Dick turned his head as Jason was speaking. "No, you totally do. I didn't notice it until now. But what else do you have going on that you're not telling us?" He started a quick catalogue of his body...Jason's body? Shoot, this was weird.

"What, you have hearing loss? Why didn't you tell us?" Tim's comment wasn't angry so much as concerned. "And how did it happen?"

"Tt, Todd, you are an imbecile."

Jason frowned. "Look, how do you _think_ I got hearing loss? I was too close to an explosion."

"Probably one that you made," Dick muttered. Jason locked his eyes onto Dick, and _dang_ he didn't realize his face could even be that intimidating.

"For the record, no."

"Uh huh," Dick replied, not giving a full account of just how much he _didn't_ believe that.

He was still cataloguing when his brain tripped again. "Wait, and you wear an elbow brace?" The sensation just finally registered.

"Yeah, I do, but how about you quit spewing all my secrets, or I'll start sharing some of yours, huh?" Jason veritably scowled now. It made Dick pay closer attention to his cataloguing efforts.

But he rolled his eyes at the comment. "Sure, but that will be kind of hard considering I don't have any." He knew he had plenty, but felt justified saying it anyway. Even if it was just to be contrary.

Jason snorted, and Dick winced. He made a mental note to _never_ make that sound. Like, _ever_ , unless it was a life or death situation. And, even then, it would be a long shot whether he would. It was unflattering, to say the least.

"And what do you call not having any sensation in one of your fingers?"

"Documented by B," he replied, even as Damian's head whipped around. " _Grayson!_ After all your lectures--"

"C'mon, I knew that one," Tim cut in, glancing at Damian. He received a scowl for the comment. Dick narrowed his eyes, meeting Tim's look in the mirror.

"How exactly do you know that? I told Bruce to keep that out of anything that you all had access to."

"'Don't have any,'" Jason mocked quietly.

Tim flashed him a sheepish grin. "He did."

Dick stared hard at Tim, ignoring Jason. "You sneaky little hacker."

Tim looked away, clearly uncomfortable. "Sorry," he muttered. He shook his head. "This is so weird to be talking to Dick in Jason's body." He shook his head. "I _really_ hate magicians on a Tuesday." The car accelerated, and an awkward silence ensued.

"Oh, and did you call Zatanna?" Tim asked after a minute.

Damian fixed him with a look. "Drake, I am not an idiot."

"Well, weirder things have happened tonight than something slipping your mind."


	2. Back at the Cave...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Bruce was not pleased.

"And how exactly did this happen?"

Dick and Jason were sitting in the cave on medical cots, Dick looking at the floor in apparent fascination, Jason glowering at Bruce. Alfred had checked them over and, apart from Jason's...Dick's? Dick hated trying to figure out how to think of them and their bodies--he had already gone multiple rounds in his head and out loud trying to find a good way of referring to them. Anyway, other than the concussion that Jason's body had, and bruising on Dick's body, they were fine.

Well, and apart from being in the wrong body. But, ya know...details.

"Magician," Dick mumbled in response to Bruce, resisting the urge to swing his leg like he was ten again and Batman was giving Robin a lecture about safety.

Bruce sighed, and Dick knew that sigh. It was the sigh that said Bruce was _this close_ to pinching the bridge of his nose. Which meant he was _this close_ from just walking away from this issue for the night.

Fortunately, Bruce had been only a few states away on a business trip. Unfortunately, he wasn't supposed to come back for another two days, and the fact that he was back early had put him in a less than stellar mood, as evidenced by the sigh. Not that he ever had stellar moods, but there was...brooding and less brooding. On rare occasions, he bordered on brooding-beneath-the-radar. That was usually when Jason agreed to stay a night at the Manor, or Tim and Damian actually acted civil, or he made a big break on a case.

This was definitely in none of the above categories. The only reason Jason hadn't left with Dick's body was because Alfred had expressly forbidden it, and Damian had given him a glare that scored an 11 out of 10 when he did try. He, less than amicably, had agreed to stay after that, muttering something about "knowing how to cut his losses." And Tim and Damian already had a full bout about whose fault this was, which Dick had managed to put a stop to right as Alfred had finished checking them all over, so all civility was already out the door.

"And I assume you called Zatanna?"

"Bruce, we're not amateurs," Tim said from his seat at the computer. Though he hadn't typed anything since they got back, Dick noticed.

"What did she say?"

"That she was unfamiliar with any spell that could do this, and would have to see them in person to know anything for certain." Tim made a move to type, but stopped with his hands balled above the keyboard.

"I'm going to make some calls of my own," Bruce said abruptly before stalking away.

"I'm showering," Damian said, also stalking away. But not before he glared again at Jason. The man looked to the ceiling, exasperated.

"I'm not going anywhere with your precious Richard," he spat. Damian seemed satisfied enough, and left.

They all had a half moment of silence before Tim said, "So, Dick, you going to work as Jason or you letting him cover your shifts?"

Dick moaned. He hadn't even thought about that. "I can't go into work like this. Or like _that_." He gave Jason a meaningful look. "No way they wouldn't think I had a concussion or something was _seriously_ wrong with me."

Jason barked a short laugh. "You're saying I can't do the job of a cop? I know all the procedures. I can totally do your job."

Dick rolled his eyes. "Uh huh. And you can _totally_ pull my personality off, not to mention all the office politics and relationships that I've learned to navigate. You'd throw me right off the deep end if you went in, not to mention could get me, I don't know, hurt or _killed_ considering Bludhaven isn't exactly much safer than Gotham."

Jason raised an eyebrow at him, accompanied by a mischievous grin. "Oh, I wouldn't get you killed. But wreck your office politics? Now _that_ sounds like a good time."

"You won't. Call my supervisor and leave him a message saying that I've had a family emergency." Dick was reaching for his phone already.

Jason held his hand to his face like he was holding a phone and spoke in a high pitched voice. "'Hello, I can't come to work for the foreseeable future because I'm stuck in my brother's body, and I won't let him take over my shifts despite him being more capable than me. You're going to have to do without this beaming ray of sunshine in your dank, God-forsaken armpit of a city. Whatever shall you do without me?"'

"Lovely, Jason. Now how about you cut back on the sarcasm and try channeling the aura of the body that you've stolen?" Frowning when the phone wouldn't unlock, Dick tried his finger on the pad again. He huffed a sigh when he remembered it _wasn't_ his finger, and manually typed the passcode in. He pulled up his contacts and selected his supervisor. About to hand it to Jason, he backtracked and deleted his fingerprints from the unlock selections. He finally shoved the thing toward his brother with a meaningful look.

"No way, I'm _not_ calling your supervisor," Jason said, backing away from the piece of electronics. "If you're not happy with what I just did, you won't be happy with anything, and I'm not having the consequences of you being unhappy in my body. My luck would be you'd eat only cereal until we switched back and I'd have to go keto just to get back to some semblance of feeling normal. And I like bread too much to be able to do that."

"C'mon, Jay, you know I wouldn't do that," Dick said, huffing a sigh. "Just say something like, 'Hey, sorry for short notice, I had a family emergency and don't know when I'll be back in.'" He wiggled the phone at Jason. "Seriously, here."

Jason was still for a moment before snatching the phone. Jabbing at the screen, he put the phone to his ear, glaring at Dick the whole time.

And if Jason didn't have his phone, Dick would be videoing the entire thing, because the amount of displeasure his brother was radiating was a rare thing to see.

"Uh, yeah, hi..." And Dick officially facepalmed at Jason's awkward greeting, and subsequently wished a hole would swallow him up.

"So, uh, I have a pretty major family emergency...and, well, I don't think I'll be able to come in--" Dick motioned at Jason about the wording. "Uh, I _definitely_ won't be able to come in. So...yeah, if you have questions--" Dick's eyes got wide, and he made a slicing motion across his throat. _Abort, abort!_

"Uh, don't call me. Thanks, bye." Jason jabbed the screen again, and Dick hid his face in his hands. Moaning, he slid his palms down his cheeks and reached for the phone.

"Seriously? 'Don't call me?' You could have said, 'I probably won't be available much,' or literally _anything_ else that didn't make me sound like a jerk employee playing hookie. And my _voice_ , you couldn't have made it sound _any_ more monotone and horrid."

Jason launched the phone at him at high velocity, and Dick fumbled with it before getting a firm hold. "Well, Golden Boy, if you wanted a better job of it, _you should have done it yourself_."

Dick smiled a bit and said, "Well, I did half of it, considering you used my mouth."

That earned him an eye-roll. "Speaking of, don't give me a sore throat with how much you talk. My body's not used to it because _sometimes_ a bit of quiet is actually welcome."

"Aw, you know you love me."

"Whatever, Dickface."

"What? Jason, we're going to have to have a conversation about self-esteem. Why are you being so harsh about the way you look?"

Jason gave him a flat look. "No. Just...no. We are not having a big brother talk about self-esteem when I am trying to insult you. Now, if you're finished humiliating me, I'm going to bed." Turning, he marched for the elevator, albeit a bit slowly, as if he had to double check every movement he made. And, Dick presumed based on how he was feeling, he probably _did_ need to double check every move.

Turning toward the remaining people--Tim and Alfred--he said, "I'm going to head up too. Jason's body does _not_ have as much stamina as he would like us to think." He felt like he'd run a marathon carrying both Tim and Damian the whole way.

Alfred rose an eyebrow at him. "And neither does yours, I believe." Dick swallowed, trying not to blush at the accuracy of the statement. "Good night, Master Richard. If you need anything, please let me know. Oh, and would you take this up with you?" Alfred took a couple steps closer and handed a tray of mugs over to him. Grabbing for it, Dick only managed to hit the tray with the back of his hands. Trying to right the tipping mugs, he bumped Alfred's arm, and the tray crashed to the floor, sending the mugs into oblivion.

"Shoot, Alfred, I'm sorry." He immediately knelt and snagged for the large pieces of ceramic. A yelp escaped him, and he drew his hand back sharply. Glancing at the hot pain, he was surprised that red welled up in a bead from his finger.

"Quite alright. Did you hurt yourself badly?" Alfred snatched his hand before he could even think about hiding it. "Why don't you go upstairs and take care of this? I'll finish down here."

"Alfred I'm more than willing--"

The old butler patted his hand before letting it go. "I know, but right now you have more pressing things, like ensuring that Master Jason's body gets back to him in one piece."

Dick blushed, but a part of him felt the nagging of the subtext of that comment. _We lost him once. Don't jeopardize him again._

"Ok, Alf. Sorry again."

"Take care of yourself, Master Richard," Alfred replied from where he knelt, picking up the pieces of colorful mugs. Dick glanced at Tim, who looked away quickly. But not before Dick caught the way he was observing him.

With that "I'm a genius, but I'm also a teenager" look. The look that meant trouble.

Sighing, he decided it could wait until tomorrow. Undoubtedly, he would know what it was about soon enough.


	3. The Next Morning

Dick woke to sunshine leaking through the cracks of his curtains. Moaning, he winced at the pain in his head. Flinging an arm up, he managed to whack himself in the face rather than cover his eyes as he intended.

He grumbled at his clumsiness, and twisted so his back was to the window before shifting the pillow moodily. He just couldn't seem to get comfortable in any of the normal positions he tried. It almost felt like he hadn't stretched out properly last night.

Shifting the pillow again, his eyes caught on some discoloration on the bare skin of his arm.

 _Huh, that scar turned out funny_ , he thought, closing his eyes again, wishing the pain in his head would cease and desist its horrid pulsing. It took him a moment to cog.

He didn't have a scar that ran the length of that arm.

Eyes opening minutely, he stared at the limb. It looked like, from the color of the hair and how large the muscles were, it could be Jason's arm--

Oh, right.

It _was_ Jason's arm.

Sighing, he gave up on returning to sleep now that his mind was on the events of last night. He sat up slowly, in respect for the pounding in his head, and the fact that Jason would have retribution if he caused any worsening of the injury for him to deal with once they switched back. Standing, he grabbed a shirt and pulled it on with a bit of difficulty. It seemed odd that it would have shrunk in the wash, Alfred was always rather careful--

Making a face that expressed just how _done_ he was with this situation, he reminded himself that Jason was a significantly bigger person than he was, and that his normal clothes wouldn't work in this situation.

He stood for a moment, debating the best course of action, before steeling himself and walking down the hall to Jason's room. Not bothering to knock at the door, he opened it and stepped in.

He was met with a brief flash of surprise, then a scowl that would have put Damian to shame.

"Do you know what knocking is?" Jason asked as he pulled up the covers on the bed. Dick watched as his brother finished making the bed, even fluffing the pillows.

"Technically, this is your body so I don't have to knock," Dick said as Jason turned toward him.

"Uh huh, and this family has always been big on privacy, and now you have a semi-legitimate excuse to backup the bad habits." Dick just gave Jason a sheepish grin, and Jason shook his head at him. "I'm guessing you realized none of your own clothes are going to work?"

"Something like that," Dick replied, glancing around the near-painfully tidy room. "Care to share?"

Jason rolled his eyes and walked to the closet. "Considering I don't want you walking around buck-naked, I suppose I'll have to." He opened the closet doors and began pulling clothes into his arms. Dick walked closer, and frowned.

"Hey, that's my sweatshirt." Jason followed to where he was pointing.

"Nuh-uh, definitely isn't." He returned to picking out shirts for Dick.

"No, totally is." Dick snagged it, and, while he was leaning over Jason, caught sight of another thing. "And that's my shirt too! You've been stealing my clothes for _years_!" The shirt was one he remembered having gone missing a long, _long_ , _**long**_ time ago.

Turning, Jason gave Dick a wicked grin as he shoved a mound of clothes toward him. "Well, considering that this is your body, I'd say I have a decent claim to it currently. So, go knock yourself out with these."

Sputtering, Dick wasn't sure how Jason had shepherded him out of the room and shut the door before he could even protest. Frowning at the wood, Dick made it back to his own room and changed before going downstairs for breakfast.

He found his brothers had already beat him there. And Tim and Damian were having some sort of argument, though it wasn't animated yet.

Digging in the cupboards, he pulled out a bowl and cereal. He could feel Jason glaring daggers at his back, but ignored him as he poured milk and took a bite.

Making a face, he looked at the bowl. It was just... _disappointing_. He looked over his shoulder at Jason, whose face was momentarily disapproving, then morphed into delight.

"Care to try?" Dick asked, shoving the bowl at him. "I'm going for toast."

"Nope, not gonna do that Dickie," Jason said, springing toward the toaster as it popped. Quickly preparing the bread as he wanted, he added, "Your bad eating habits aren't going to be mine." Taking a bite of the snack, Dick watched with amusement as the light dimmed in Jason's eyes. Jason's look slid to Dick.

"Fine, let's trade." Dick grinned, and swapped with Jason. Taking a bite of the bread, he sighed. _That_ was some good food.

"Richard, don't you agree?" Damian's demanding voice brought Dick's attention to him and Tim. They both wore scowls that, if he could, he would have taken a picture of. They were both quite reminiscent of Bruce, and nearly identical to each other.

Suppressing his smirk, Dick asked, "What's that, Dami? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention." Damian's eyes flicked from Dick to Jason and back again. It clearly disquieted the kid to be addressing him in a different body.

"Drake was suggesting I don't have the ability to balance cups of water on the backs of my hands. I told him it was an infantile show of balance, and could do it in my sleep. He then suggested that you and Todd would not be able to do so in...your current condition." Again his eyes flicked between the two. Jason just ignored him, wolfing down cereal. Damian's attention came back to Dick.

"I told him that he was a fool to believe that either of you would be incapable of the act simply because of...this." He inclined his head toward Dick. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Dick grinned. "Oh, I would agree about myself, but Jason? No way he's got a hold of those _melted butter_ limbs. He wouldn't last more than two seconds."

Jason's eyes flicked to Dick and he paused, spoon halfway to his mouth. "You're joking. Melted butter or not, I've got your limbs fine. I doubt you've mastered my fine motor control though."

Scoffing, Dick replied, "Really now, you think so? Care to test this fact?" Dick set aside his second piece of toast, already angling for water glasses.

"Uh, _yeah_. Prepare to be crushed." Jason shoveled the rest of the cereal into his mouth and set the bowl aside as Dick filled the cups. "Hand those glasses over."

"Woah, wait a minute, a competition needs rules," Tim said, sliding between the two older men and grabbing the full water glasses from Dick. "Whoever lasts longest wins. Damian and I will place the glasses on the back of your hands. And we're doing this in the sitting area where glass won't break since it's covered by that huge ugly rug."

"Fine," Jason bit out, already marching away. "What are you waiting for, Dickface? Scared you'll lose?"

Dick, Damian, and Tim all trailed after him. "You so eager to get wrecked?"

"You admitting my body has the better balancing skills than yours?" Jason stopped on the rug and turned to face Dick.

"Hardly. I'm just that much more focused than you." Dick stopped opposite Jason, Tim and Damian holding the glasses.

"Alright, enough trash-talk," Tim interrupted. He glanced at each. "Hold your hands out, palms down." Both did as Tim said. "K, now the glasses." As the weight of the glasses settled on his hands, Dick winced slightly at the pull it caused. Jason's eyes flicked over his face, and Dick knew he caught the movement, and what it was for. But they both turned their attention to the full glasses.

As much as Dick didn't want to admit it, it was _horridly_ difficult to keep the things balanced.

"Great, now whoever lasts longest wins," Tim said, stepping back. "You two have fun, I'll be finishing some paperwork." With that, he left, and Damian followed close behind.

Dick just stared at the cups, trying to find the subconscious rhythm that balance required.

It was probably a solid three minutes before either of them spoke.

"I can't believe I ate a whole bowl of cereal and _enjoyed it_ ," Jason commented.

Dick risked glancing at the man. He seemed to be having as much trouble as he was, if the creases in his face were any indication.

"It's good food," Dick replied, even as the cup wobbled from his lack of attention.

"Definitely is not. You've just trashed your tastebuds," Jason retorted.

"No, I haven't," Dick said, lacking the concentration to come up with anything better than a flat denial.

Jason didn't respond. He was definitely having just as much trouble as Dick with this little exercise.

After a few moments of silence, Dick winced again. "Jason, you've got something going on with your hand."

"Yeah, got a lot going on with that hand," came the distracted reply.

"Well, this little exercise is certainly aggravating it," Dick continued. Jason glanced quickly at him, then focused on the cups again.

"Giving up so soon?" Even underneath the quip, Dick could hear the...gratitude? Was that really what that was? It had to be. The gratitude that Dick was actually taking care of him.

"I can keep going but..." Dick trailed off.

"Alright, well, go ahead and put the glasses down. I'm going to see how long I can go."

Dick was about to comply when he came up short with a very distinct problem. The glasses were on the back of his hands. Of both hands.

Dick grumbled to himself before he shouted, "Tim!" Waiting, listening, he didn't hear approaching footsteps. Jason gave him a look. Raising an eyebrow in return, he said, "See a little problem for getting these off ourselves?" It took barely a moment before recognition dawned on Jason's face, quickly replaced by irritation.

"Replacement's gonna get it," Jason ground out. "Brat too."

"One thing at a time," Dick said, taking a careful step toward the kitchen. "Dump the glasses in here, we have to clean the carpet. Drop them out there, we have to clean up glass and the wood. Have to make it to the sink."

Jason glared at him. "Fine. Whoever gets there with both glasses wins."

Dick grinned. "You're on."

**

They both managed to make it to the kitchen without spilling their cups. After hunting around for Tim and Damian, who had both conveniently disappeared, they decided to make the most of their day however they saw fit.

And that's when Dick realized what Tim's look last night was for.

Everything in the rooms he frequented was shifted ever so slightly, enough that, combined with his unfamiliarity with Jason's body, he was constantly bumping into things. When he decided to go down to the cave, he found that all of his and Jason's things were missing, and, in their place, were cardboard replicas that melded the Nightwing and Red Hood symbols. Giving up on doing any sort of training downstairs, Dick headed back up and went to the bathroom to shower.

And, of course, the classic--hair dye instead of shampoo.

 _Nice Tim_.

At least he realized it before he dyed his hair bright red. Or Jason's rather. _That_ would be a fun one to try and fix.

Sighing, he wandered back to his room, wondering if anything had been tampered with in there.

He found nothing, save for a handwritten sheet of paper taped above the door.

_Don't hit your head now that you're a giant._

Snorting, he wadded the sheet up and tossed it in the garbage.

Tim and Damian would have some retribution coming eventually. But, right now, there were more important things to do. Like _stretching_ , since apparently Jason didn't believe in that sort of thing.

Sitting on the floor, he carefully worked through his routine, muttering in irritation on occasion.

"Jason, you _really_ need to get more flexible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are continuing to enjoy this! Thank you to everyone who has left feedback so far--I love hearing from you guys and your questions and suggestions! Have a fantastic day :)
> 
> Water cup prank idea from here: 100 Sibling Prank Ideas! by Fluffygirl12345 https://www.wattpad.com/71409762-100-sibling-prank-ideas-more


	4. Sticking Landings and Lifting Weights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update, I hope you all enjoy!

Dick watched as Bruce and Zatanna walked to the elevator, the doors sliding closed behind them.

"Well, that went about as well as would be expected," he muttered, arms crossed, still staring where the two had disappeared.

"Things are never simple, especially when a magician is involved. Especially Tuesday's magicians," Tim commented, leaning back in the chair by the computer. Zatanna had come over to take a look at Dick and Jason's predicament and see what she could do to help.

As it turned out, she couldn't do anything right now. She had to, for lack of better words, do research.

That made Dick feel just _great_. Especially considering how knowledgeable Zatanna was. It didn't bode well for a quick fix.

"Seriously? You have proof to back that up?" Dick glanced over at Jason's put out comment. He looked as irritated as Dick felt. He didn't want to spend an extra second in Jason's body, not with how stressed he was that something bad would happen to Jason or his body and it would somehow be his fault. He was sure Jason felt the same way.

"Yep. A whole spreadsheet in fact. You know that of all the times any one of us have encountered a hostile magician, over eighty percent of the times that resulted in something...less than ideal occurring happened on a Tuesday?"

Dick stared at Tim, irritation lessening as his curiosity grew at the number. "Are you kidding? Over eighty percent?"

Tim shook his head. "Totally serious. The next worst day is Friday, but that only accounts for another five percent."

"We just _had_ to go stick our noses into that magician's business," Jason muttered grumpily.

"Well, it _was_ a lead that _you_ were working," Dick commented sourly.

"Hey, just because it was my lead does _not_ mean that the blame lands on me for this. I figured it was just some prankster with a flare for the dramatic, as is _normal_ for Gotham."

"Easy, what's done is done and there's really nothing to be gained by shifting blame around." Tim got up and wandered to the elevator. "You guys coming up?"

Jason snorted, and Dick winced at the sound. It was still absolutely _horrible._ "I have no desire to be around Bruce as he figures out how he feels about this whole situation, and how he's not going to deal with it."

Dick nodded in agreement. "Yeah, no, I'm staying down here."

Shrugging, Tim got on the elevator. "Don't hurt yourselves," he said with a grin as the doors closed.

Frowning, Jason turned away, clearly disgusted, before Dick saw him get a _look_ on his face. He glanced to Dick, then the gymnastics equipment.

"No, don't you even dare." Dick couldn't get the words out fast enough. "I don't want to come back into my body with a concussion or broken bones or anything else."

Jason shot him a wild grin, one that was so characteristically _him_ even on Dick's face. "Just you stop me." He was already out of reach and sprinting for the equipment.

"Jason! You freaking--" Dick cut himself short from actually cussing his brother out as he sprinted after him.

"Am I wearing off on you? Sounds like you wanted to spew a few choice words that would rack up a nice total in Alfred's swear jar." Jason was on the mats, about to make a leap for the bars, when Dick dove.

He caught Jason's ankles, and his brother landed with an _Oomph_ before rolling to his back and kicking at Dick's face.

"Hey, I'd be careful if I were you. You have to live with any permanent damage you cause," Dick quipped as he ducked around the kicks. Snagging one leg, he pulled himself up until he was sitting on Jason's legs. The man squirmed under him and did a crunch to get within punching range of Dick's face, but Dick flipped around and pinned Jason's shoulders with his feet. Jason tried to buck under the pressure, but finally flopped his arms down, still.

"You're so _weak_ ," he spat, glaring from his position on the floor.

Dick grinned. "You're just that heavy."

Rolling his eyes, Jason said, "I hope to never see myself give another Dickface grin like that. And it's all muscle, thank you."

Dick gave an even brighter grin in response. "Wasn't calling you fat, Littlewing. Though maybe now is a good time to have that self-esteem talk since you aren't walking away?" Jason groaned before he squirmed again. Dick pushed harder with his feet, eliciting a grunt from his brother.

"You haven't realized just how strong I am," he ground out, glaring at Dick. "You're about to turn your own shoulders into pulp."

Dick frowned at him "Quit being dramatic, that's my job."

"Uh huh. Don't blame me when you're shoulder is ridiculously messed up."

"You're starting to sound like me. You sure _I'm_ not wearing off on _you_?"

"No, you seriously do _not_ know my body." Jason gave another wicked grin, and Dick felt a moment of dread. "But I know it exceedingly well." With that, he grabbed Dick's feet, fingers on the bottom, and _wiggle_ d his fingers for all he was worth.

Dick fell back with a shocked yelp, Jason rolling upright.

"You liar! You always say you're not ticklish!" And it was easy to believe--the man never reacted when anyone tickled him anywhere.

"You think I would actually tell you guys the truth about that?" Jason jumped and grabbed the gymnastics bars.

Dick just watched as his brother started swinging, then took a full turn around the bar.

"You be careful with my body or there will be retribution," Dick said, eyes narrowing. "I have a job and a girlfriend to get back to."

"Oh, is that a comment about how I don't have a life? You know, kind of happens when you die." Jason took another revolution around the bar, then flipped around to go the other way.

"No! Geez, Jason, don't twist my words!"

"How about you watch your words."

"Just be careful," Dick said, unwilling to have this argument.

"Ya know, this doesn't seem all that hard." Dick's heart leapt to his throat as Jason launched himself from the bar to the next higher one. One hand gripped, but the other missed.

"You're still not used to my body," Dick commented.

"And what does that matter? I haven't fallen yet."

"But if you do, are you going to be able to land right?"

"Yeah, totally. I mean, this is your body, and you practically live in the air and stick all your landings. There's gotta be some sort of muscle memory here." Jason did a flip before Dick could tell him to stop.

It was nearly a flawless performance. Except that Jason overrotated, and landed with a sharp rush of air forced out of him as his back connected with the ground.

"You alright?" Dick was already rushing to Jason's side, concern eating at him, as well as a healthy dose of frustration.

"Yeah, fine," Jason breathed, waving his hand as he continued laying where he fell. "Just got the wind knocked out of me."

"There's a bit of talent and work that went into me being able to do all that," Dick said smugly, "So d _on't do that again._ " He knelt next to Jason, looking him over. "I have to live with any damage you cause." Jason reached out his hand in a "help me up" gesture, ignoring the comments. Standing, Dick grabbed his hand and pulled him upright. Jason practically flew past where he thought he would.

"Geez, Dick, seriously. Tone it down on using those muscles."

Frustration still gnawing at him, Dick fixed Jason with a look. "I'm using your body just fine."

"Nuh uh, you're not. Before you punch something and your fist goes through it, why don't you use those weights and figure out just how much stronger I am than what you give me credit for."

Frowning, Dick stared at Jason a moment longer before moving to the weights. It probably wasn't a bad suggestion.

Stretching some--and still finding Jason's body to be _incredibly_ and frustratingly stiff--he put on his max amount he usually lifted.

Jason raised an eyebrow at him. "You playing it extra safe?"

"Uh, no?" Dick looked at the bar. "This is a decent place to start."

Waving a hand dismissively, Jason grabbed another fifty pounds. "You really don't give me much credit. This is a good amount to start with, maybe you'll believe me that it's child's play once you send it through the roof."

Dick allowed Jason to put the weight on, wondering whether Jason was purposely setting him up for failure so he could have a good laugh at his expense. Either way, he was going to find out.

Jason stepped back and gestured for Dick to go ahead.

Taking up a lifting position, Dick grabbed the bar, flexing his hands a bit.

He couldn't keep the surprise from his face as the bar did almost literally fly from his hands.

"Now you know why my body feels like a brick. _It is._ " He could hear the smirk Jason was wearing plainly in his voice.

Lifting the bar a couple more times, shocked at just _how_ strong Jason was, Dick finally set it down. Turning to his brother, he kept the wonder from his voice. "Yeah, that's pretty good Littlewing."

"'Pretty good'?" Jason scoffed. "Just admit it, you're jealous of that physique. One that is _actually_ a fine specimen of humanity, as you put it."

Dick grinned, the bright grin that had Jason cringing earlier. It had the same effect now, but Dick rolled right through it. "A fine specimen to go with a fine inner man."

Jason rolled his eyes, turning away. "Whatever, Dickface. Don't let the fine physique get flabby, or I swear--"

"You'll kill me, there will be retribution, the Red Hood will be after me, yeah yeah I know. Don't worry about it."

"Glad we have that cleared up." Jason walked for the elevator and Dick watched as the doors shut behind him before he went back to the bar.

Putting another fifty on, he started lifting again. It was an interesting sensation to lift this much, and he was going to enjoy it while he could.


	5. Dose of Pit Rage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo...I know in the tags I originally promised only a little bit of angst...yeah this chapter totally wrecked that. Lots of angst here. Nothing important for the plot, so feel free to skip it if you don't want any angst.
> 
> ALSO T/W: unintentional self-harm. Nothing graphic, mainly bloody knuckles

The door slammed far too loudly behind him.

He didn't care.

The frustration and anger seated in Dick's chest were far too powerful to feel remorseful for the action at the present moment, even as a distant part of him knew Alfred would be less than pleased.

Right now, though, it was all Dick could do to not punch a hole in the mirror of the bathroom he'd stormed into after Bruce's declaration that not only could he and Jason not go out on patrol (which, he had to admit, was a fair requirement, especially considering Jason's performance on the gymnastics equipment yesterday) but they also couldn't leave the manor. _At all_.

Hands clenching and unclenching, they were raised in frustration over his head in the start of running through his hair before they froze, save for trembling from emotion that needed vented. A growl of bitterness rose in his throat and he threw his hands down sharply.

That man could be _so_ unreasonable it wasn't even funny. He was going insane and Bruce didn't even care. He had a blind spot a mile wide when it came to Jason's safety, and Dick's welfare was getting mauled by it.

Spinning about with his pent-up anger, the need to punch something was morphing to desperation as emotion burned in his chest. It wasn't fair that Jason and he were paying for the magician's stupidity. It wasn't fair that Dick couldn't do _anything_ because _Bruce_ decided it was too risky. Why should Dick go insane just because Bruce was paranoid?

He really needed to punch something before the heat in his chest burned a hole to release itself.

The only thing keeping him from it was that Jason's hands were the ones that would break against the porcelain or stone or whatever he decided to strike.

Attempting to keep Jason's hands in one piece, he paused and leaned heavy on the sink, breathing ragged as he gripped the porcelain with white-knuckled hands. Dick pinched his eyes closed, taking a deep breath before releasing it and opening his eyes. After a moment, his eyes settled on the hands, studying them, and the burning in his chest lessened. They were hands that were muscled, scarred, and calloused. Yet held such a capacity for gentleness, compassion, and protection.

Taking another deep breath, he looked into the mirror. Jason stared back at him. His eyes flicked over the reflection, taking in details that he never had before. The creases, the texture, the color, the scars...so many scars...

Lifting one hand, his finger traced over one of the lightest and least noticeable running across Jason's cheekbone. A small smile quirked his lips despite the situation. He remembered that scar. He'd been the one who placed it there, on accident, when they were sparring one time. His brother had made some snide remark about Dick adding to his collection of scar-tissue, and Dick felt horrible for a month after. But, oddly enough, it had become a sort of joke between them. Dick even felt that Jason became more relaxed around him. Maybe the accidental injury had made him feel less like he was being kept at arm's length or that the family was being extra careful around him. Any way around, Dick was oddly thankful for the experience.

As his eyes trailed down his bare neck, then over his arms, he only wished that the rest of the gnarled, discolored skin could be such a strangely good memory. He tripped over a few, speeding across them even as his stomach rolled and he had to push offending memories aside of times he thought he'd seen his brother die again.

One, in particular, his eyes caught on though. A pair that looked like a grossly oversized spider bite--if the spider had been about the size of a dog. Tilting his head, he considered it, wondering where it could have come from.

Abruptly, he realized it was about the right size and shape to be from the prying end of a crowbar.

Swallowing bile, he was glad of the distraction of a spike of pain registering in his wrist. He looked it over briefly. "Jason," he muttered with a shake of his head. He turned on the hot water and let it run a bit before adjusting the temperature with the cold. Satisfied, he put his wrist under it and let the warmth relax the tightened muscles.

How did he never realize his little brother was so...stoic? Sure, he knew that Jason hid injuries and tried to play off the severity of the ones he couldn't hide, but...this was something he hadn't really considered. The ebb and flow of pain that never seemed to entirely leave, just rotated where it settled for the moment. And even though his own body acted up when he strained it or aggravated it, this was somehow different. Jason _always_ had some sort of discomfort or pain.

Sighing, Dick turned the water off. Grabbing a towel, he wiped his arm dry, wishing he were back in his own body by now. No one had said it directly, but he knew he was on thin ice. If anything happened to Jason's body, it would likely send Bruce down a path of self-destruction, and if anything happened to Jason in Dick's body, it would _definitely_ send Bruce down a path of self-destruction again. And, either way, it would probably land on Dick as being his fault.

No, no probably.

It _would_ be Dick's fault. Either because he wasn't careful enough with Jason's body, or his own body betrayed Jason and got him hurt or--

Dick didn't finish that thought. Instead, he wandered down the halls and then down to the cave, anger and anxiety building once more as he subconsciously clenched and unclenched his hands, heat building in his chest again.

As if he _asked_ to be in Jason's body. As if he _wanted_ to be responsible for his little brother's well-being so directly. As if he _wanted_ to all but hear the accusation and warning every time Bruce or Alfred or Tim looked at him-- _Don't mess up. Don't make us lose him again. Don't, don't, just_ ** _don't._**

Stepping onto the mats, Dick took up a fighting stance in front of one of the punching bags. Striking it lightly, his mind wandered even further as his punches subconsciously hit harder.

He had his brother back, and Bruce his son, though it was an angry and touchy Jason who was back. Even so, he was thankful for it. But he _couldn't_ let anything happen again. How would they handle it a second time? Bruce would definitely completely lose it this time, Alfred would just slowly die inside, and Tim--oh jeez, _Tim_ would just fall to pieces. But to be put in a cage, to not be allowed to even leave the manor, to not be _trusted--_

Gritting his teeth, he hit the bag harder, a snarl carving itself into his face as his frustration turned to anger turned to rage. Blows falling without reserve on the coarse bag, his thoughts stoked his emotion, his emotion fueled his need to move, and the need to move demanded that this bag be ripped to absolute shreds.

Why should he be the one who always had to bear the burden of making sure his brothers were in one piece? Why should he have to be confined to a cage just because he and Jason weren't in their own bodies? Why should he have to pay the price for someone else's idiocy?

His combinations lost their variety as green tinged his vision, heat pressing viciously in his chest, everything in him clamoring, fighting, _screaming_ for something to be ripped apart, for something to sate the fire in him before it burned through him.

The bag wasn't cutting it. It wasn't cooperating and _disintegrating._

"Hey, easy on my hands there."

A yell ripped itself from his throat, and he turned, fist outstretched, toward the owner of the voice.

If the bag wouldn't be torn apart by his bare hands, he was sure warm flesh would oblige.

The warm softness of an arm blocked his blow, then his next, and the next. Lunging toward the figure, his hands grabbed greedily for the exposed throat just right there, just ever out of reach, dancing away and away and _the heat_ was about to consume him if his hands couldn't get a literal grip--

Stumbling as something caught his foot, his eyes finally broke through to his brain.

He saw his own face. It caused him a moment of hesitation.

Why was he looking at himself? Why was he trying to rip his own throat out?

That hesitation was enough of a crack in the all but impenetrable wall of green-tinted rage that words finally broke through.

"--consuming, but you can do it, Dickface. Sheesh, if I could, you can."

Staggering as though a weight landed far too heavily on his back, Dick breathed raggedly and stared at the face in front of him. The man watched him carefully.

A fresh wave of that merciless fire swamped him, but he squeezed his eyes shut, lurching toward the man as the rage demanded that warm flesh be in his grasp, even as something else in him pulled the other way.

"Don't let it win, Dickie. If it wins, you'll never forgive yourself. I'd know, I've been there."

Growl filling his throat, the words stirred something in his mind, something near that part that was pulling him the other way. But the rage, _the rage_. Its heat demanded satisfaction, warned that he would be burned if he didn't provide what it wanted. It snaked from his chest to his hands and through his blood to his head, warming then uncomfortable then hot then burning burning _burning--_

Without thought, he was up again, hands outstretched for the bare throat before him.

Once more flesh thudded dully against his arms, something caught his foot, and he found himself on the floor.

"Dick, c'mon. You're so much classier than going for a strangle hold. This isn't you, it's the Pit. Just breathe, listen to my voice and breathe."

Remaining on the floor, a muffled shout broke free of his throat as the rage grappled with that deeper part of him, like two rabid feral dogs locked in a wrestling match, each snapping greedily for the other's throat. Teetering, he crawled toward the man's legs, propelled by the need to not be burned by that _thing_ in his chest, in his hands, in his head.

"Dick, listen to that deeper part. That's the true you. The rage isn't you, but it will use you if you let it. Don't. Don't let it have its way."

A moan made its way through his gritted teeth. _That voice_ , it threatened to freeze the demanding heat that flared violently against it, against him, against anything within reach. His body trembled, and he remained on all fours, head bowed and eyes glued shut.

It was almost a balm, yet the screaming primordial shriek that filled him contorted it to an agonizing burn.

Trying to trust the voice, a harsh, choked sound escaped him. The pain of not obeying that heat, it was too much, _too much_ \--

"There you go, keep it up. You can win this, Dick. I know you can."

Taking a shaking breath, then another, the heat flared again, and he slammed a fist on the hard ground with a shout, unwilling to let it take hold of him. He hit the floor again, then again, and again, and again--

The green heat flared fitfully once more before backing down.

Gasping, he sucked greedily for breath for a long moment before turning his eyes up toward the man standing in front of him.

"You back?" came the flat question, even as blue eyes flicked carefully across his face.

Pushing himself over, Dick fell on his butt, still watching Jason. "What the..." He was breathing hard enough he didn't finish the question.

"Dose of Pit rage," Jason replied to the unspoken question. His eyes flicked down to Dick's hands, then back to his face. He didn't elaborate.

"That...that's..." Dick shook his head, unable to finish the statement. _That's what happened when you came back._

"Yeah. That's that," Jason said, moving toward a cabinet, not turning his back fully to him. Eying him still, Jason pulled out a med kit and walked over to kneel beside him.

"Let's see those hands," he said softly, reaching toward Dick but not touching him. Confused for a moment, Dick stared at Jason's outstretched hand, then looked down at his own. The sight made him pause.

They were...not pretty. The backs were completely slicked with blood, skin peeled back from his vicious round with the punching bag.

Another growl found its way from Dick's throat, but he gave one hand to Jason, looking away and glaring at the floor as he did so.

"This is gonna sting," Jason said, still quiet. Dick didn't respond, but the next moment a hiss passed his lips when the alcohol-doused cotton began wiping the raw flesh.

"We'll get this cleaned up and figure out a way to keep B from noticing," Jason muttered, gently pressing and wiping in a lulling rhythm.

Dick yanked the hand away, baring his teeth at the man in front of him as green encroached again. "Keep B from noticing? What, so I can be indebted to you? Or so that he doesn't keep you on a tighter leash like he will with me?"

"No, so that he doesn't flay you alive."

"I'd like to see him try," Dick snarled, pushing Jason away and flying to his feet. Casting about, he looked for a weapon, anything that could rend and tear and--

" _Dick_ , that isn't you. Look at me. _Look at me_." Dick's eyes slid unwillingly back to the man who was still seated on the cave floor. "Tell me your name."

"Why?" he snapped, returning to looking for a weapon.

" _Look at me Dickface._ What is your name?"

Gritting his teeth, Dick slid his eyes once more to Jason. "Dick."

"True, you can be that. I want your full name."

Green pulsed at the corners of his vision. "Richard Grayson," he growled.

"Say it again."

" _Richard Grayson,_ " he spat.

"And is attacking Bruce Wayne something Richard Grayson would do?"

Closing his eyes, Dick swallowed hard, a new emotion filling him even as it mingled and competed with the rage.

Fear.

"No," he whispered, and the green fell away.

"Right. Now sit back down and let me finish with my hands." Walking slowly back to Jason, Dick sat with shaking legs. Jason once more took the hand and began cleaning it. Silence stretched on for several moments.

"I suppose I know what caused most of that pain you always have in your hands," Dick commented suddenly, guilt clawing at him.

Jason's eyes flicked to his face before he grabbed Dick's other hand and began swabbing it. "That's a major contributor," he said evenly. He hesitated before continuing slowly. "When I was trying to get a handle on the rage, I found exercise was incredibly helpful. But, as you found out, the rage can...mask most other things. It was easy to go too far." He paused with a frown and poked at Dick's hand, making him inhale sharply.

"Yep, you broke that one." Jason sighed, more tired than irritated. "Well, that's going to be more difficult to hide." He paused, thinking. "We'll worry about that later. Right now, you need to go for a run."

"Excuse me?" Dick snapped, irritation flashing.

"You've got that rage clamoring at you still, and one misstep is going to set you off again. So, you're going for a run, and while you're gone, I'm going to come up with a good way to hide this or a good story for it." Jason started cleaning up the dirty cotton.

Dick stood, watching him. He was right, the rage was just beneath the surface, waiting for something to trigger it. Closing his eyes briefly, he saw himself lunging for his brother's...his own _and_ his brother's throat. He opened his eyes again quickly. "You're not coming with me?"

Jason shot him a look. "Uh, wasn't planning on it."

"But what if..." Dick trailed off, ashamed of his fear, ashamed of himself as a person. Was that really what Jason had fought with, alone, when he came back? The thought made him want to puke.

"What if you go berserk and hurt someone?" Jason shook his head. "I'm sure Damian, Tim, Bruce, and Alfred will all be able to handle themselves. After all, Tim survived me trying to kill him a couple times after I came back, and if I couldn't do it then, you in my body _definitely_ won't be able to now." Even at Jason's words, fear gripped Dick's throat. He couldn't make Tim relive that if he did lose it. And Damian? What would he think--?

The fear must have shown on his face, because Jason stopped in his tracks and took a good, hard look at him. Dick met his look for only a few seconds before looking away, heat rising to his face.

"Don't worry about it, I'm sure I'll be--"

"If you really want me to babysit you, fine," Jason broke in, words lacking bite as he replaced the medical kit and closed the cabinet. "Let me change and we'll go out around the property."

Dick's eyes snapped back to Jason. Mouth open, he found he didn't have adequate words to express his gratitude.

"Thanks, Jay," he finally managed to get out as Jason crossed the cave.

"Yeah, whatever, Dickface."


	6. Waffles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive any choppiness in this chapter :)

"I am so _bored._ " Jason spun around in the swivel chair in front of the computer in the cave.

"Diddo," Dick commented from where he was laying on the training mats.

It had been a long three hours since they'd gotten up that morning. Consisting of doing...

Absolutely nothing.

Well, not absolutely. But close enough for it to count.

"What do you want to do about it?" Dick asked, still staring at the ceiling. He'd counted about forty stalactites from where he was positioned. And that was without moving his eyes or his head. If he moved at all, the count over tripled. That was his big revelation for the morning.

In his peripheral, Dick could see Jason shove the chair around again. It took his brother only a few seconds before he responded.

"Bet you can't match my marksmanship."

Raising an eyebrow at the ceiling, Dick held up his hand. "Currently I can't exactly hold a firearm without risking dropping it." Which he felt guilty about, considering it was his lack of self-control that had landed him in this position. Which he refused to admit out loud. He also didn't want to admit to Jason, or really to himself, that he wasn't entirely sure he wanted a firearm at hand in case there was a...repeat.

The motion at the edge of his vision halted. "Dick, it's not your fault." Jason sounded tired more than anything. "We've been over this, and I will thrash you once we're back in our appropriate bodies if you keep eating yourself with guilt."

That just made Dick feel worse. "Jay, look, I'm--"

"I swear, if you say you're sorry, I'm not going to wait to thrash you."

Swallowing the words, Dick finally lifted his head and met his brother's look. Much to his surprise, Jason looked away first. It made him frown.

"Jay, you ok?"

"Fine," came the gruff reply. "I don't want to talk about it."

Sitting quiet for a moment, Dick watched as his brother flushed. Frowning again, Dick thought he might know what caused the reaction.

"You're ashamed of it, aren't you?"

Eyes like shards of ice whipped back to him. "Wouldn't you be?" his brother spat.

Dick opened his mouth to say no, of course not, only to find the words hypocritical. He had just felt ashamed about his lack of self-control caused by the Pit and resulting in a busted hand.

"You shouldn't be," he landed on instead.

Jason just snorted. "So you are."

Wincing, Dick said, "But you shouldn't be, and neither should I. What happened and the results aren't you're fault. In the end, you've done good."

Jason's face slacked, and he stared at Dick. Dick met his look for several seconds before becoming uncomfortable. "Um, what?" he asked, pushing himself into a sitting position so he could look at his brother better. 

"You just...no, you know what, I don't want to ruin it. You just said I did something good in relation to after I came back, and I don't want to know if that's because of some fluke due to you being in my body or if you're just pitying me, but never mind."

Dick frowned, hesitating. He hated how touchy anything relating to his brother's death was, but he felt it important to get his point across. "Jason, I mean it. You didn't start out on the right foot, but you've made progress." He'd become more than the rage and the hate that wanted to consume him, more than what the liquid of the Pit tried to chain him to.

Knowing the entire family, Dick was confident this was the first time Jason had ever heard anything positive about what had happened when he came back.

"Whatever, Dickface. Now you're just getting sentimental." Even as Jason said it, and with turning his back to Dick, Dick could hear the emotion that refused to be hidden in his brother's voice.

There was some clattering before Jason turned back to Dick, face smoothed over. He held a firearm in one of his hands.

"So, marksmanship?"

Considering for a moment, Dick pushed himself off the mat and stepped to Jason's chair. There was some warning before he went off the deep end last time, and, with Jason here, it was likely it wouldn't get that far before one of them realized what was going on. Handling a firearm would be safe enough.

"Sure, but I'm shooting at handicap since I'm using the non-dominant hand," he remarked, taking the weapon. It was one of Jason's favored pieces to take on patrol, but had a suppressor on its muzzle.

Jason snorted at that. "You should be able to do as well with either hand."

"Yeah, well, I still claim handicap."

"Weak," Jason quipped as he set up a target. Walking back, he snagged another firearm off the table before gesturing to Dick, then the target.

Dick swung his weapon around, in his left hand, and fired.

The bullet hit the 7 point ring on the target.

"Seriously? Is that the best you can do? I honed my muscles to be able to do that _in my sleep_." Jason snagged the weapon from Dick. "See, it's more of a fluid motion, you're flinging your arm around like you're on the trapeze." Jason demonstrated, and hit the 8 point ring. Frowning, he looked over the gun and muttered, "That should have been dead center. Must be kicking."

Dick snorted. "Uh huh, and it has nothing to do with the fact that you _still_ aren't used to my body?"

"No. I'm a better marksman than that even when my muscles _aren't_ working." Jason moved abruptly and another round buried itself in the 8 point ring, barely grazing the border for the 9 point ring. Muttering, he laid the weapon aside.

Dick grinned. "Should we see how Tim and Dami do?"

Jason returned the grin. "Yeah, except..." Snagging the weapon again, he hunted about for a small screwdriver. Finding one, he quickly messed with the sight, then laid it aside again. "Let's even the playing field a bit."

Dick had whipped his phone out and texted both siblings. A ping, followed by another, filled the cave. Grinning, Dick typed responses back.

"Tim says prepare to be slaughtered, and Damian says that Bruce will be displeased that we are doing target practice in the cave, but will come supervise to ensure nothing is destroyed."

"Of course he will," Jason quipped.

They didn't have to wait long for them to show up.

"You two really don't give up, do you?" Tim asked, walking over to them with his hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jason asked, testy.

"Just that I know neither of you are used to each other's body still." Tim gave a smile. "I have footage to prove it with you, Jason."

Jason's eyes narrowed. "Let me guess, Bruce's cameras in the cave that caught me on the gymnastics equipment."

Smile broadening, Tim said, "Yep. And you owe me, because I swiped the footage and replaced it before he found it."

That gave Jason a moment of pause. "Uh huh," he finally said. "Because you totally wouldn't use it as blackmail."

Shrugging, Tim replied, "Like I said, you owe me. And whether you repay the debt willingly or not doesn't make much of a difference to me."

Dick was touched by Tim's thoughtfulness up until his last comment. Frowning, he couldn't quite tell whether his little brother really swiped the footage just to have a debt he could call in or not.

Knowing Tim, it could go either way.

"You called us here for a competition, Richard. Are we going to begin?" Damian's question was accompanied by a scowl. "Because I believe that you and Todd are going to regret your challenge."

Dick had to keep the grin off his face. "Really? What makes you say that?"

"Simply the same as Drake. Neither of you are in peak condition. Both Drake and I are. Though, I must say, Drake in peak condition is not terribly impressive."

"Be nice to your brother, Damian," Dick said automatically, even as he caught Tim's eyes roll. "And, you're forgetting, Jason's a crack shot and I'm not half bad considering what my day job entails."

"But factor in that, even with Bruce's distaste for firearms, we can all still shoot ridiculously well, and Damian has a fair point," Tim commented.

Jason picked up the pistol he had tampered with and handed it butt first to Tim. "Care to show us?"

Accepting the weapon, Tim turned to the target the two eldest had been using. "You two trying to go deaf down here, or you got some protective equipment?"

Jason rolled his eyes. "It's got a suppressor on it, Replacement. You should be able to spot _that_ at least."

"Yeah, but I'm not going to risk Bruce coming down here and see us with firearms _and_ disregarding all normal safety with them. Earplugs and glasses, now."

Rolling his eyes, Jason grabbed a few pairs from a drawer and tossed them to each of his brothers.

Tim hardly waited for them to put the equipment on before he fired three shots.

A 4, 3, and 5.

Frowning, he looked at Jason. "You seriously shoot with this?"

Jason shrugged in return. "Not my fault you can't use my equipment."

"Tt, Drake, you're clearly incompetent. Here." Damian held his hand out for the weapon, which Tim gladly handed over as he stepped back from the line. Damian took up a proper shooting stance and, like Tim, fired three shots.

A 3, 3, and 4.

"Todd, your weapons are defective," Damian commented, handing the gun over to Jason.

Jason shrugged before he whipped out the pistol he had in his waistband and loosed six rounds.

Four 8's, two 9's.

"I don't see your guys' problem," he said with a smirk. "They work just fine."

"Tt. You clearly don't have your normal accuracy, however." 

Dick was about to ask for a turn when he caught Tim's frown. "You messed with the sight, didn't you?" Damian seemed to perk up at that possibility.

"Excuse me? I keep my competitions fair and square. Besides, you know how irritating it is to have to re-sight in one of these suckers?" Jason waved a hand. "No way, not worth it. You two just can't shoot."

"Prove it," Damian demanded.

Jason fixed him with a look then shrugged. "Fine." Taking the gun he'd given Tim and Damian, Dick waited for their game to be called when Jason wouldn't be able to replicate his performance.

Once more, six rounds popped off.

All were 8's.

Dick did his best first not to openly gape, then laugh at Damian and Tim's faces.

"I refuse to believe that I am that poor of a marksman," Damian snarled.

Tim fixed Jason with a look. "And I _know_ I'm not that poor a marksman. I still say you messed with the sight."

Jason just shrugged as Damian stalked coldly back to the elevator and disappeared.

"You know, you really should think twice before pranking us, Replacement."

The unimpressed look on Tim's face spoke volumes. "Uh huh. I'll take that as an admission." He then looked to Dick. "I want to see you shoot that one." He nodded to the gun he and Damian had been using.

Dick held up his bandaged hand. "Nope, thanks though." Even at the words and the motion, his gut curled. He could still feel the rage lurking just within striking distance if he wasn't careful, and he didn't want to risk it with Tim in the same area as him.

He was still terrified what would happen if he did truly lose it around any of them again. Including Jason. Though less so with him since he actually understood what was happening.

"I still don't believe you that you broke your hand by falling off the roof," Tim muttered, picking up Jason's weapon again and removing the remaining ammo from it. "Seriously, you can walk around just fine, wrestle with Jason fine, and you _fall off the roof?_ "

Dick glanced at Jason, but the man was already covering for him. Unfortunately, it included that _horrible_ snort again. "Seriously Timbo? Dick may put on a good show on the ground, but I have hearing loss, remember? That takes a huge bite out of any sort of balance."

Tim considered Jason for a moment, and Dick tried to not stare at him as well. That was...a clever cover.

"Ok, fine. Maybe you did fall off the roof. What about the fact that your continually wearing fingerless gloves now?"

"Believe it or not, Jason's always cold," Dick commented, which wasn't false. He had taken to wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a sweatshirt of some sort. The gloves had been a convenient addition to hide his busted knuckles.

And, somehow, they had managed to hide the broken hand from everyone except Tim.

Tim glanced to Jason, who shrugged. "I am. You all say my leather jackets are horrible fashion, I say they actually work to keep me in some semblance of warm."

Dick's look shot to Jason. He hadn't considered that as the reason for his brother's wardrobe choice.

"Ok, whatever." Tim sat in the computer chair and pulled up a file to work on. Jason started cleaning his firearms, and Dick hesitated before standing behind Tim and reading over the file.

It was only about five minutes before Tim turned around and fixed him with a look.

"You have access to this whenever you want. I don't need you looking over my shoulder while I'm trying to work."

Dick held up his hands. "Sorry, Timbo, didn't mean to hover."

Tim considered him for a moment. "Bruce won't let you two out still?" He glanced between Dick and Jason.

Jason frowned. "Don't need you rubbing it in our faces, Replacement."

Tim leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. "Not rubbing it in. You would know if that's what I were doing." He fixed Dick with a look. "You're holding untold power here and you don't even know it."

"Tim, cut to the chase," Dick said with a sigh.

And there was that look again. The "I'm a genius and a teenager" look. Heavy on the "I'm a teenager" part though.

"Have you asked Bruce to go out yet?"

"Tim, unlike many people in this family, I do occasionally try normal routes of getting what I want." Jason snorted beside him, making Dick wince.

"Uh huh. And did you use the magic word?" Tim asked with a sharp grin.

"You know please never works with B," Jason quipped.

Tim shook his head. "You two really aren't firing on all cylinders are you? Dick, just call him dad and I'm sure he'll cave. If not, add a little Dick Grayson flavoring to the Jason Todd look and you'll have him no problem."

Dick stared at Tim. "You're so manipulative."

Shrugging, Tim said, "And?"

"And I love you for it and am totally going to bust us out of this prison," Dick supplied, snagging Tim and giving him a nuggie with his good hand.

Yelping, Tim shoved at his arms unsuccessfully.

"What are you busting?" Dick let Tim go at Bruce's voice. His brother ran a hand through his hair, a mischievous smile playing around his lips.

"Busting the mystery that is Tim's amazing brain," Dick replied, hoping the man hadn't actually heard more. Steamrolling ahead, he walked behind Bruce as the man walked about the cave. "B, we were thinking, we haven't been out in three days, and we're going stir crazy--"

"No patrolling," Bruce cut in automatically, attention on a stack of papers he'd picked up.

"No patrolling, right, but what about going to get waffles? That's harmless enough and will at least let us see that the world still exists."

Bruce looked at him flatly at his dramatic exaggeration. "No."

Dick put on his best puppy dog eyes. "B, please, we're going insane."

Bruce turned away from him.

"No."

Gritting his teeth, Dick looked to Tim and Jason. Jason was smirking, and Tim made a small "keep going" gesture.

Dick stepped on the opposite side of the table that Bruce was standing at, organizing the papers. Steeling himself, he took a deep breath. He waited until Bruce glanced at him.

"Dad, please?"

Dick had never seen Bruce stiffen so dramatically before. The man's eyes locked with his before flicking over his face. Dick thought he'd done it.

"No," Bruce said, looking down and picking up papers before walking away. But Dick caught the change in tone.

Flashing a grin at his brothers, he waited until Bruce was far enough away to put the nail in the coffin. Getting a running start, he sprung and latched onto Bruce's back like a monkey.

The man took several hard steps but, shockingly, didn't fall under the surprise weight of Jason's body.

"B, please?" Dick whined, releasing the part of him that was still the kid Bruce's resolve always wilted under.

Reaching up and grabbing the arm that was locked about his shoulders, Bruce squeezed before dislodging Dick. Turning, he looked to Jason.

"You two are really going insane staying here? It's only been three days."

"Duh," was all Jason responded.

Bruce looked back to Dick, considering. Dick flashed him his biggest grin.

"Fine. Take Tim and Damian with you."

Dick beamed as Jason and Tim were already arguing over where they were going for waffles. Stepping close to Bruce, he said softly, "Thanks old man."

Lips twitching, Bruce said, "You're starting to sound like Jason."

Dick laughed. "Not such a bad thing."


	7. Waffles Were Great Until They Weren't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okaaaay so I'm back after a hiatus of trying to put out several dumpster fires in my personal life...Thanks for being patient for an update on this fic! 
> 
> PLEASE READ THE TW FOR THIS CHAPTER
> 
> TW: references to rape/noncon/assault. Nothing in detail, mostly discussions about the aftermath of such an experience. There is also a panic attack and some dissociation in this chapter, as well as references to Jason's death. If anyone wants to skip the chapter, once again there is nothing terribly important for plot, so you won't miss much there. Please message me if you want a chapter summary, I'd be happy to send one to you

"You seriously expect me to believe that you're going to convince Bruce to let you two out like this?" Tim asked, glancing over his shoulder to Dick. The four of them were walking down a busy main street. Waffles had been consumed, in abundance, over four hours earlier. It was exactly what Dick and Jason had needed, something that was somewhat normal but not as dangerous as their normal nightly activities. Plus, it was entertaining. Dick would never let Jason live down that he liked berry flavored syrup. Though, to be fair, Jason didn't really seem to care that Dick knew his preference so...At the very least, Dick now had an idea about what to bring as a gift or bribe or as a convenient excuse to drop by unannounced.

"You opened Pandora's box, Timmy. There's no way I'm not going to get whatever I want from Bruce," Dick replied from behind his two youngest brothers, where he was walking next to Jason. Shoving his hands forcefully into the leather jacket he had on, he hunched his shoulders against the cold night air. It was only about eight o'clock, but the temperature had taken a sharp downward turn. Glancing at Jason, he couldn't help but be a little irritated at how comfortable the man looked. Of all the things he thought he would miss about his own body, the fact that he was always warm was not the thing he thought would be at the top of the list. Yet here he was. Shivering his butt off. Because Jason was in his body, which actually took not dying from hypothermia seriously.

Though, to be fair, for a body brought back to life through dubious means, it was shocking it actually functioned as well as it did.

"Yeah, but you know how Bruce is with anything safety related. And neither of you are at peak condition, as demonstrated earlier today as well as yesterday." Tim continued leading them down the busy street toward their target, a chocolate shop that had just opened a couple weeks ago. Apparently, Jason had been angling to try it since he read about its opening. The only downside was its location, since it was situated near several of Gotham's less savory bars. Dick kept a close eye on Damian, knowing well enough that, even for so early at night and accompanied by three other people, someone might be tempted to try something if the kid got far enough away from them.

"If we're this way long enough, he won't have a choice about whether or not to let us out," Jason griped at Tim's comment.

"For a lot of reasons," Dick added.

Tim shrugged as they neared the shop, leading them a bit closer to the street and away from a bar's noisy entrance. "Maybe. Lets just hope there's a resolution before that."

"Isn't that what we all want," Jason muttered.

Dick was about to comment when giggling distracted him, immediately followed by Jason jumping so hard he essentially body-slammed him. Grunting against the unexpected hit, his full attention was taken as Jason stared at two tittering women, both holding beers, and both clearly beyond tipsy.

"Keep yer hands to yourself," Jason growled at them.

The women giggled some more. They made a few rather loud remarks about his _assets_ , as well as other lewd comments that would be associated with that topic by drunk people who lacked any discretion.

"How dare you--" Dick caught Damian under the arms as he ran at the women, shouting about their inappropriate behavior toward his brother.

Dick leaned close to the kid's ear, speaking softly but clearly. "Damian, let it be. They probably won't even remember they did it tomorrow. And you fighting them is going to cause more problems than it solves. For all of us."

Damian squirmed against Dick's hold, and Dick had was careful not to crush him. He was still having issues with Jason's build, and was glad he'd listened when Jason told him to try the weights to get some idea of what his movements were going to result in.

It took a bit, but Damian finally quit wriggling in his arms.

"Tt, Todd, you're useless," he spat. "You wouldn't defend Richard's honor if your life depended on it." Dick released Damian as Jason snorted.

"Kid, you don't know me as well as you think you do."

Damian's head whipped toward Jason, then sheepishly back to Dick before he hastily turned around. Damian strode past Tim into the chocolate shop, and the small bell on the door jingled loudly as the kid opened it with far more force than necessary.

"Uh, did the Brat just get us mixed up?" Jason asked. Dick looked back to him.

"I think so," he said. Sighing, he glanced at both Tim and Jason. "Don't tease him too much about it, please? Both of you."

"I happen to value the tenuous peace agreement we have too much to do that," Tim said before turning and following Damian's lead into the shop.

"Whatever, Dickface. That isn't really the best teasing material anyway. He's so sensitive about anything relating to you." Jason glanced back toward the bar, distracted, making Dick stop long enough to catch an expression that flitted across Jason's face.

"You good?" he asked, unsure what the expression actually was.

Taking a heavy breath, Jason scrunched his nose. "You deal with that all the time, don't you? How can you not care? Seriously, _groping_? While we had a kid with us to boot?"

"It's that physique that's such a fine specimen of humanity," Dick said with a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Dick," Jason said. And the way he said it, the nearly whine or plea that was somehow mixed with such firmness, made Dick shut up. "Don't just brush it off. Seriously, it's _wrong_."

Smile failing, Dick felt his face fall. "I know Jay. All things considered, what I told Damian still stands. Fighting them on it would cause more problems for all of us."

"But _it's wrong_."

"Jason," Dick said sharply as something unpleasant began clawing at his throat. "Just let it lie. What's done is done." Turning, he rushed into the shop, beating down the emotions that would chain him up and gut him if he let them.

 _What's done is done_. That's what he'd told himself a thousand times.

It never made a difference.

**

Dick lay on his bed, staring at his ceiling. He had intended to go to sleep early.

His mind had other places to be.

After the debacle at the chocolate shop, none of them were in a great mood anymore. Damian was snappy from embarrassment; Jason on edge; Tim withdrawing and keeping out of the way; and Dick a flurry of busy, sure that he could drown the feelings clamoring inside if he could just distract himself enough.

"Way to go, Dick," he muttered at the ceiling. "Such a great way to handle the entire evening."

 _Such a great way to handle your entire life,_ came the small voice of accusation.

Rolling off his bed, Dick shoved that voice aside. It was an old one, one he'd grown used to over the years, one that always came up with each added failure. One he knew wasn't speaking truth, not really.

Regardless, it cut just as deep every time it opened its mouth.

He walked down the hall, then downstairs and toward the kitchen, emotion swelling. His movement became sharper, more tightly controlled, as the voice poked and prodded. _Failure. Fool. Imposter. Hopeless. Dirty._

He stopped in the kitchen doorway on that one. _That_ was the most recent addition. The one he wasn't sure what to do with. The one that wasn't familiar through years and years of life.

Clenching a fist in his hoodie pocket and gritting his teeth, he opened the tea cabinet and stared at the contents.

 _Dirty,_ his mind whispered. _A dirty failure--_

Slamming the cabinet, he grabbed the kettle and, filling it, started it heating. Staring at the metal as the warmth licked the base of it, he registered a pain in his temples.

Slowly relaxing his jaw, he couldn't keep the sneer from his face as the self-loathing voice skipped an flitted through his mind, taking all his attention. _Failure. Weak. Worthless. Shameful. Powerless--_

The kettle whistling brought his mind back to the kitchen, cutting his self-loathing short.

Absently grabbing a mug, he poured hot water and added cocoa powder to it. He stirred it, the clinking of the spoon on ceramic lulling in a weird way.

"Dick." Starting at his name, he turned around with a frown. Tim stood in the doorway. A quick glance over him had Dick setting the mug aside.

"Tim? What is it?" His brother looked spooked.

"It's Jason. I don't know what--he just started, I dunno, having a panic attack or something. He said his brain feels fine but the rest of his body is in total shutdown. He asked for you."

Dick was already hurrying to follow Tim.

"We were just sitting in the living room. He wanted to chill before going to bed. We had the TV on and I was working on my laptop when I heard his breathing go hoarse."

"What were you watching?" Dick asked as they entered the room. Though he was pretty sure he had a good idea of what.

"True crime."

"Uh huh. Assault?"

"Yeah," Tim said, voice small. "I'm sorry Dick, I had no idea--"

Dick knelt in front of Jason, who was gripping the couch arm so hard his knuckles were white. His eyes were wide, trained on the floor. He tried to maneuver into Jason's line of sight.

"It's not your fault Tim," Dick said. "Would you leave us for a while? It'll be fine." _Liar_ , the voice whispered. _It's not fine. Your being a dirty failure is what put Jason in this position._

"Are you sure?" Dick could feel the hesitation in Tim's person, even if it was well hidden in his voice.

"Yeah. I'll get you if we need anything else." His eyes didn't leave Jason, but he waited until Tim's footsteps retreated far enough for him to feel comfortable before he spoke again.

"Jason, look at me." The man didn't move. "Look at me Jason." Blinking as though just waking, his brother shifted his eyes to briefly look at Dick before looking away.

"I'm going to need to you to look at me, then breathe with me, alright? Look at me Jay." Abruptly Jason looked at Dick, the fear in his eyes unexpectedly snapping Dick from big-brother mode into something far more detached, like he was keeping things at arm's length. He wasn't sure if that was good or not, but went with it. "Good. Now breathe with me, ok? Ready, in..." Dick led Jason through a few rounds of breathing, the man gradually sounding less like he was about to hyperventilate.

"How are you doing?" Dick asked after a bit. "Tim said your brain felt fine?"

"I am fine. Now at least," Jason mumbled, hand still gripping the couch arm tightly.

Dick snorted. "That's probably the most blatant lie you've ever told me. Truth, now."

Jason was silent for a moment. "Brain's fine. This is all your body." His eyes found their way back to Dick's, and hardened as he took a breath.

Whatever the detached feeling was Dick had before, it abruptly shattered. "No, I'm not talking about it," he snapped before Jason could say whatever he was going to. Frankly, this was the _last_ thing Dick wanted his family to know about, let alone _talk_ about with any one of them.

Jason flinched and, impossibly, his hand on the couch tightened further.

Dick cursed. "Jay, I'm sorry. I just--" Standing, he turned away and ran a hand through his hair. He should probably call Tim back, because, right now, he was absolutely useless to Jason. But Tim shouldn't find out about this, not this way, and it was Dick's mess to clean up, not Tim's--

"Dick," Jason ground out, making Dick turn back to face him. "Either call Tim back in here or talk to me. Because listening to your thoughts screaming about guilt that isn't yours to carry is really fuckin exhausting while I'm at war with your body."

"Sorry. Really, I'm sorry." He knelt in front of Jason again, the other man's eyes tracking him, almost wary. "I just--whatever. I'm sorry." He swallowed heavily, heart beating loud in his ears.

"So you said," Jason replied dryly.

"What do you need?" Dick asked, forcing his voice steady.

"Not sure," Jason said with a frown. "It's like I'm watching this play out from a distance, like an out of body experience."

Dick choked in surprise despite the situation. "Did you just make a joke?"

"Didn't mean to. Surprised you haven't used that one yet though." Jason's hand moved toward Dick, but hesitated. He balled it in a fist, emotion running across his face almost too fast to keep up with.

"I can't decide if I want physical contact or not," he muttered, sounding like he was trying to work out a puzzle. He winced. "Fuck, I guess I have some idea of what a heart attack might feel like. If we switch back soon, you're chest is going to be _sore_."

"Yeah, territory goes with having a panic attack," Dick commented.

Jason's eyes sharpened. "You've had this happen before?"

Realizing his misstep, Dick hesitated before answering. "You've had training on how to spot it too."

" _Dick_." The disapproval of his attempt at evasion was clear. Dick winced and looked away. The voice nagged at him. _Worthless, dirty--_

"I have."

"More than once?" Jason guessed. Throat closing, Dick nodded even as he pushed the memories of the first few times down. The frantic beat of his heart, the seemingly herculean task of breathing, the shaking, the utter _fear_ that was consuming...

"Fuck. I've talked people down from one but..." Jason's hand suddenly shot out and grabbed Dick's shoulder painfully. "And the impending sense of doom? That's...?" Dick's heart hurt at the undisguised terror in his brother's words.

"Normal. But it's lying to you. Everything's going to be fine," Dick replied automatically, trying to keep his own voice from betraying his internal battle.

It earned him, after a few moments, a heavy exhale from Jason. Which was good, except that Jason took another deep breath and held it. "Fuck," he said again, grip tightening even more on Dick's shoulder. "This is shit."

"It is," Dick agreed. "You'll be--"

He cut off as a loud clatter sounded from the kitchen area. He briefly looked toward the door, considering getting up to check what happened since Bruce and Damian weren't here and Alfred was downstairs. That meant it was Tim...

His attention was abruptly brought back as Jason looked wildly around the room. Grabbing the pillows on the couch, Jason clutched them tightly to his chest and curled up. Dick held out a hand to rest on the man's shoulder, but stopped short.

"Jason, you'll be alright. Ok? It's going to be fine."

"No," came the small whimper. "No, you've got...I can't..."

"What do you need?" Dick stood, but Jason curled in further on himself.

"I...I want someone here," he whispered. "I don't..." He trailed off, burying his body deeper into the couch and pillows.

"Jason, tell me what you need," Dick pressed.

"Just don't leave," Jason whispered. "I can't...don't...Not alone...not again, _please_." The man whimpered and covered his mouth with the pillow, muffling the choked sound that escaped him.

"I won't leave. I'm going to sit right here. You'll be ok." Pulling the coffee table away from the couch, Dick sat down on the floor by Jason's head. "You'll be ok."

Breathing becoming ragged again, Jason shook his head. "No, no I'm not." Jason shifted to look at Dick with wide eyes, and Dick noticed the man had begun shaking. "I can't...everything's falling apart..." His hand shot out and latched onto Dick's arm, making him suppress a wince at how tight the grip was, but he shifted uncomfortably. It only made Jason's grip tighten desperately.

"No no no, don't, Dick don't leave. I can't...someone could...I'm not..."

Dick gripped Jason's hand, beating down his own anxiety at watching his past experiences play out before him, of fear and desperation having their way with him. He got a handle on his own breathing in record time before saying, albeit roughly, "I'm not leaving Jason. I'm right here. You'll be fine."

His brother's face slacked, breathing leveling out, everything about him becoming very still.

"Jason? Hey, Jason." Dick shook his brother lightly. "No, don't do that to me, I need you to stay with me." He grit his teeth together, worry flaring at the lack of response. " _Jason_." He shook him a bit harder. He could _not_ deal with a dissociative brother on top of his own panic--

Jason jolted, eyes coming to fix on Dick's face, paling worryingly quickly.

"Dick I--" The man blinked rapidly before taking a deep breath.

"You with me?" Dick asked, voice clipped.

"Yeah." Voice small, Jason added, "I didn't count on tangling with both of our pasts tonight."

Looking at him, unsure of what he meant, Dick just said, "I need to to talk to me. I don't want you doing that again."

Jason stared at him for a few seconds before Dick shook him once more. " _Jason._ "

The man all but yelped as his eyes refocused on Dick. " _Talk to me Jay._ Tell me where you are."

"I'm...I'm in the manor," Jason replied slowly, twisting so he was staring at the floor. Dick kept his hand on the man's arm. "I'm in the manor. This isn't...it isn't..." He swallowed hard before sitting upright. Dick allowed his hand to slide away, but Jason caught his wrist almost absently, placing his fingers on Dick's pulse even as he kept talking softly.

"I'm in the manor with Dick." The man took a deep breath and, closing his eyes, let it out shakily. "I'm in the manor with Dick, and Tim is around somewhere. I'm in the manor with Dick..." He was quiet for a moment before continuing in a softer voice, almost to himself. "This isn't Ethiopia, and I'm not going to be assaulted by anyone. Tim and Dick won't allow it."

 _Oh_. The guilt that had been gnawing at Dick earlier now dug its teeth deep. _Both our pasts..._

Dick just sat, letting Jason hold his wrist and mutter where he was and who he was with, how this wasn't Ethiopia, how he was alive, that Dick and Tim were standing between him and anyone who would hurt him, that the manor was a safe place...

Finally taking a deep breath, Jason released Dick's wrist and sat back heavily. Dick watched him a moment longer. Mouth drawn down, eyes slipping closed, each rise and fall of his chest distinct and separate, Jason was the picture of an exhausted man.

Dick knew that feeling, and he hated it. Hated the helplessness that weighed. Hated the shame that whispered and taunted. Hated the loathing that spewed venom.

Hated how he he felt like he wasn't _good enough_.

Watching Jason a moment longer, the familiar trio of helplessness, shame, and self-loathing grabbed at him, and every single time that he had been beaten, bruised, and abused by them came flooding back.

Pushing himself off the floor, he snatched for his phone. He needed something to silence those memories, or at the very least compete with them.

"You want tea?" he asked curtly. Eyes on his screen, he jabbed at it until it unlocked.

The sound of Jason taking another deep, steady breath would have been a balm save for the accusations toying with his thoughts. _Shameful, worthless, powerless..._

"Yeah." The sound of Jason shifting made Dick glance up. He had brought his knees up, arms curled around them. "Would you..." Resting his chin on his limbs, he looked away from Dick. "Would you...stay though?" His arms tightened as he asked, as though bracing for refusal or some cutting remark about how weak the request made him sound.

Or Dick assumed that's what the motion was conveying. That's what he'd always felt the few times he'd been in this position.

"Of course," he said lightly, still looking at his phone. He caught the way Jason's eyes snapped to him though. "I'm just going to ask Tim to bring us the tea. Would you like him to stay also?" Dick still didn't look to Jason. He knew it'd be easier for the man to accept the offer if he wasn't staring at him.

And it was easier to hide his own feelings while staring at the screen.

Dick finished texting Tim and frowned, risking glancing at Jason when he still didn't reply. The man was still hugging his knees, watching Dick.

"Jason?" he prompted.

"Yeah, he can stay," Jason supplied, eyes shifting again to avoid Dick's look.

Dick typed another text telling Tim to stay when he came before putting the phone back in his pocket. Shifting his weight, he wanted nothing more than to leave the room and release all his emotion doing _something_ that involved _moving_. But he told Jason he'd stay, and so he would. At least until he couldn't stand it.

"Fuck," Jason said softly. "You look like shit."

Dick opened his mouth to reply before realizing what Jason said. "Uh, _I_ look like shit? You're the one who just had the panic attack. You look pretty bad yourself."

"You do look like shit," Jason replied. "And I'm sorry."

Dick barked a mirthless laugh. " _You're_ sorry? Now you're really starting to sound like me. This isn't even remotely your fault." _It was my trauma that put you in this position_ , he didn't add.

"No, if I'd known you would be so rocked by it, I wouldn't have asked Tim to get you. I just...I didn't want Tim to have to deal with his older brothers' pain. Because, regardless of what he says or how he acts, I know he's really bothered by our predicament. I didn't want to add to it."

Dick ran a hand through his hair, surprised at how forthright Jason was about his care for Tim. He knew the man cared for all of them, he just rarely was so willing to put it into words. "Yeah, I get it. That's why I didn't get him to come back in." He laughed again. "What a pair of big brothers we make. Dragging ourselves through shit to keep our brother from having to deal with it, even though he's more than willing and more than capable."

"Goes with the territory," Jason commented with a small smirk.

"Yeah, I guess so. But seriously, you have nothing to be sorry for." Dick sat on the couch, still only for a moment before his leg started bouncing.

"Still am," Jason muttered. "I can't imagine that watching your body have a panic attack, which you've had before, is much good for your psyche."

"It's fine," Dick replied automatically, once more pushing accusing voices aside that gained volume at Jason's comment. _Worthless, shameful, filthy..._

"It's not," Jason retorted. He was quiet for a moment, then softly added, "As you once told me, you shouldn't be ashamed of it."

Dick's eyes snapped to Jason, leg stilling. "What?"

"Dick, you're an open book." Dick's leg started bouncing again, faster than before. "You're obviously unsettled by watching me have a panic attack in your body, and everything about the way you've held yourself since coming in here says that you feel ashamed." Jason's eyes flicked over Dick's face a bit. "You're thoughts are so loud they're fuckin' _deafening_. Not to mention how many there are. You've always been a motor mouth. Never realized you're that way in your head too." Jason tipped his head back, closing his eyes tiredly.

Dick was unsure what to say, but reflexively supplied, "Sorry."

Jason cracked an eye open at him. "Not even an attempt to deny it? Wow, now _I_ am _really_ sorry if you're so rattled that you're not even trying to defend that you're ok when you're clearly not."

"Sorry," Dick moaned, rubbing his face. "I really am."

"Shit, Dick, I didn't say that to make you feel worse. I said it because I am."

"And I'm sorry for making _you_ feel worse," Dick muttered.

"Ok, I'm obviously making this worse," Jason said. "Suffice it to say, though, it still stands you shouldn't be ashamed of it. Whatever happened wasn't your fault, and having a panic attack, or more than one, because of what happened doesn't mean you're weak. It doesn't mean you're worthless. It doesn't make that little voice of accusation that you keep wincing at true. It doesn't mean you aren't good enough. It just means your body is reacting to a something it thinks is a threat."

Dick huffed, hands grabbing a pillow and fingering the seams restlessly. Hearing someone say that, someone who actually knew him, made something shift in him. Like the words might not just be platitudes, but actually true. "Yeah, thanks Jay. I know."

"You may know it but it's clear you don't believe it," Jason griped.

"Working on it." Dick smiled a bit, warmed by Jason's attitude on his behalf, before frowning again. "Sorry you got a double whammy of both our pasts," he said. Though he was unsure what brought on Jason's dissociation and thoughts of Ethiopia.

Jason became very still. Dick glanced at him to make sure he didn't step on a land mine while trying to rid himself of some of his guilt.

"Not your fault," Jason finally said, again quiet. "Whatever that crash in the kitchen was, that pushed me over the edge." He shook his head. "I haven't experienced that much fear and panic since..." He shook his head again. "And combined with that crash, it was enough to..." He shrugged, letting Dick fill in the rest.

Sighing, Dick wasn't going to voice his disagreement about not bearing any guilt out loud. It was clearly partially his fault, considering his body getting triggered into a panic attack was enough to set Jason up to remember Ethiopia.

Jason broke into his silent disagreement forcefully. "I can hear your thoughts, Dickface. Not. Your. Fault."

"Ok," Dick said with a sigh. "I'm--"

" _I know_. I don't want to hear you say 'I'm sorry' again tonight. There's nothing for you to be apologizing for. Capisce?" Jason's voice was surprisingly soft and patient.

Dick barely caught himself from saying the words again. "Yeah."

"Good." Jason sighed heavily, settling back once more.

Dick watched as Jason's breathing slowed, not quite to the point of sleep. Shifting, he closed the gap between them and carefully wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders. Jason shuddered slightly, and Dick immediately began moving away. But his brother turned into him, opening his eyes briefly. It was just long enough to convey that the touch was welcome.

Settling close, Dick stayed awake long enough to catch Tim come in with their tea. Jason sleepily mumbled thanks. Tim hesitated a moment, but Jason pointed to the cushion next to Dick, and Tim obeyed the silent order. Dick pulled him close as well, content enough for the moment to follow Jason's example and fall asleep.

Tomorrow would be soon enough to try and deal with the remaining guilt from tonight.


	8. Tuesdays Man...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is where the fic starts living up to the "absolute chaos" tag :)

"You both ready?"

Dick nodded from his position on the training mats, Jason mirroring him. Glancing to Damian, Tim, and Bruce, he gave them a smile before returning his attention to Zatanna.

The woman had dropped by unexpectedly, claiming she had something she wanted to try with him and Jason to fix their problem, and that the sooner the better. Something about it being easier to try closer to when the initial spell had been cast. Dick really didn't care about the details, he just wanted to be done with this debacle. Not least because he didn't want another repeat from a few days ago of Jason having to deal with crap that wasn't his to handle.

A sharp pang of guilt hit him at that thought. He'd been so worried he would hurt Jason's body at the beginning of all this that he hadn't even considered Jason would get hurt some other way. And yet here they were, with Jason having been traumatized because he was stuck in Dick's body.

Dick vowed to make sure nothing else happened. He wouldn't allow it.

"Alright. Let me know if you feel anything unusual or painful, and I'll stop." Dick pulled his thoughts back to the current situation as he and Jason both acknowledged Zatanna's command. Though Dick abruptly sat, earning him a confused look from Jason.

"You might want too also," he commented. "If our previous experience is an indicator, we'll likely end up on the floor anyway."

Jason gave a put out sigh but followed his lead and sat in front of him. Zatanna took one last glance between them before she started speaking rapidly in a way Dick had long ago quit trying to put together and understand. Closing his eyes, he let the words wash over him, trying to tamp down his nerves.

Zatanna gained volume before she finished with a flash of light.

Dick opened his eyes, hopeful...

And did his best not to let his disappointment show.

He was staring at himself still.

Frowning, he glanced at Zatanna. She looked at him, then Jason, with fierce concentration.

"So, uh, did it work?" Tim finally broke the silence.

"That would be a hard no," Jason said, staring at Dick. Dick felt more than saw the others deflate in disappointment.

"What went wrong?" Dick asked, turning his attention to Zatanna.

"Well, I felt _something_ happen. It's possible I had the beginning part of the spell correct, and not the end, so it started switching you back but couldn't stick." She turned to look at Bruce. "I'm sorry, I'm going to need more time."

"Nn," Bruce hummed, noncommittal. Turning, he strode for the elevator, and Zatanna took another look at Dick and Jason.

"Sorry," she said quietly to them before following Bruce.

Silence filled the cave for a few long moments.

"I am going to prepare for patrol," Damian finally said, looking at Tim, who was seated at the computer. "You should as well, if you are going to insist on accompanying us tonight."

Tim sighed, and Dick could see the irritation flash across his face before it dulled into something tired. "Yeah, I will. I'm going to finish this up first."

"Tt." Damian glanced at Dick and Jason before disappearing to retrieve his suit.

"Who's on comms tonight?" Dick asked Jason, still trying to conceal his disappointment about Zatanna's attempt not working. He was itching to do something to distract himself, and he doubted that manning comms would cut it, but it was at least better than nothing. Alfred had seemed to appreciate it though when Dick had suggested it to Bruce earlier that day in hopes of getting a new distraction. And, as Tim had opened Pandora's box, Dick got exactly what he wanted without too much trouble.

"You are. I've got other plans."

Dick raised an eyebrow at Jason's response. "Excuse me? You are _not_ leaving the manor in my body without me coming along."

Jason rolled his eyes. "I'm not, it'll be fine."

That earned his brother a look. "You know that makes me even more nervous. Those are famous last words, _especially_ coming from you."

Sighing, Jason glared at him before grinding out with obvious irritation, "If you must know, I'm going to be reading. If it'll make you feel especially good, I'll even read down here where I can glare at you every time you interrupt me."

Dick held his hands up in surrender, fighting the smile pulling at his lips. "Take it easy, you can read wherever you want. But I'll never turn down your company."

Jason rolled his eyes again and walked toward the elevator. As he passed behind the computer chair Tim was still in, he snagged the back and shook it lightly.

"Better hurry or the brat will tear into you."

Tim sighed and saved his work on the computer before closing all the open programs. "Yeah, you're right." He stood, stretched, and took a few steps. Dick saw the wobble in his knee on one step, and on the next Tim's leg gave out completely.

Jason had his arms around the teenager before he could hit the floor.

"You ok, Timbers?" Jason asked, his concern poorly hidden as he held onto Tim, propping him upright.

Tim rubbed his head, but didn't push away from his brother. "Yeah. I got really light-headed for some reason." He gave Jason a sheepish grin. "Probably just dehydrated."

"You need to drink more water, Tim," Dick commented, concerned even as his brother regained his feet apart from Jason. "And lay off the coffee."

"Eh, maybe so," Tim replied, his tone saying _Definitely not_.

"Well, if you want to join comm duty, the more the merrier. Bruce and Damian can handle things on their own for one night."

"Nah, I'm good," Tim said, heading the same direction Damian had. "I'll see you two later."

**

Dick's fingers drummed a rapid pace on the desk. Eyes glued on the screen, he watched footage roll by from Bruce, Damian, and Tim's masks. Briefly turning his attention to other feeds from around the city, he found the same thing he had the last dozen times he'd looked at them.

Everything quiet. Quiet, quiet, quiet.

_Quiet_.

So quiet that Tim had joined Bruce and Damian on their route.

Normally he was all for that. But tonight he would have liked for _something_ to be interesting.

"Dickface, I swear, if you don't stop that rapping I'm going stop it for you," Jason said from behind him.

Spinning around in the chair, he faced where Jason had propped himself up on the training mats, a copy of some classic held in his hand, eyes fixed on Dick in a glare.

"Sorry, I'm just--"

" _Bored_ , I know. But you're the one who volunteered for comms."

"I know," Dick replied with a sigh. "I thought it'd be more interesting though."

Jason shrugged, turning his attention back to his book. "That's probably a good thing for them," he nodded toward the screen.

"Also true, though--" A beep from the computer forced Dick to cut off. Spinning around again, he managed to contain his excitement as he said into the comms, "Reports of a robbery in progress, half a block from you all."

" _Copy_ ," Bruce's growl cut through the comm. Dick pulled up the store's security camera feeds.

"Looks like at least five of them," he commented as his family's mask footage showed them nearly at the place.

" _Copy_ ," came from three distinct voices.

" _Red Robin, there is no need for you to accompany us. Batman and I can handle this._ "

" _As if._ "

" _Later,_ " Bruce growled, and both dropped the argument as they engaged the criminals. Dick watched, oddly engrossed. It was fascinating to see each of his family member's fighting styles on a camera, from what was essentially an aerial view. Each so different, yet so effective and so obviously related. Bruce, a mix of speed and a heavy dose of painfully honed raw power, all tied together with cold calculation. Damian, speed with the confidence that showed in Bruce's power, but without the strength to go with it yet. And Tim, all the control of Bruce without the blunt strength, relying entirely on calculation--

Tim dropped the criminal he was battling, the last of the group.

But Dick watched in horror as Tim collapsed to the ground as well, limp as a rag-doll.

"B, Red's out," Dick said tightly, even as he caught Robin freezing. _Freezing_. There was no reason for the kid to freeze. Unless he was abnormally concerned for Tim...

Behind him, he heard Jason stand and move toward him. " _Robin, secure the criminals."_ Dick frowned as he watched Damian do...nothing. He was completely still, hadn't moved a quarter of an inch.

"Little D, you good?" Dick asked, concern mounting. He watched Bruce kneel by Tim before the next words froze his heart.

" _Medical emergency, have Agent A standing by._ "

"Copy," he replied, his older brother instincts clamoring but getting boxed out by necessary efficiency. Jason's hand rested heavily on the back of the chair. "Status?"

" _Completely unresponsive._ "

Dick's heart leapt to his throat, but he managed to choke out, "Copy." He watched Bruce place a portable oxygen mask over Tim's face, then gather him carefully in his arms, turning as the Batmobile pulled up. Eyes flicking over the screen, they landed on Damian again.

The kid hadn't moved.

"B, Robin's...not ok." Throat constricted, Dick fought the urge to stand and pace and pull his hair in worry. This was _not_ what he wanted when he was hoping for something interesting to happen.

Jason's hand tightened on the chair-back.

" _Robin, in the vehicle. Now._ " That was the voice that _all_ Robins responded to, no matter the circumstance.

Apparently, this was no different.

Haltingly, Damian turned. He took two unsteady steps toward Bruce. He was taking a third...

His leg completely gave way and he fell to the ground. He didn't try to get up.

Bruce's growl was one that Dick knew to be laced with worry, though it wasn't significantly different from any of his other growls. The man bundled Tim into the vehicle before turning back and scooping up Robin.

" _Have Hood standing by as well. I want all hands available."_

"Already here," Jason responded.

" _Robin, status._ "

The kid didn't respond. Bruce growled again, putting Robin in the vehicle and climbing in himself.

" _Red Robin, can you hear me?"_ Dick suspected Tim wouldn't respond at all--when Bruce called someone unresponsive, there was good reason to.

_"I--he--aahh--_ " Dick felt a bit of relief at Damian's voice, even though the words were halting.

" _Robin,_ " Bruce said, prompting.

" _B, I'm in me_ ," came the stilted reply. Dick frowned, glancing back at Jason. His brother shook his head, obviously as confused as Dick felt.

"Robin, it'll be alright. We'll sort it all out when you get back," Dick said.

" _B, I--he--Drake is in my body_."

Dick's heart stuttered as silence sliced through the comm.

" _Robin, Damian, report,_ " Bruce said.

" _Drake is in my body,_ " the kid repeated. Dick felt like facepalming.

It was Tuesday again. And Zatanna had come earlier today. She said she thought something happened, but it seemed nothing had.

Whelp...apparently the wrong something had.

" _Red Robin, report,"_ Bruce commanded. Though he sounded hesitant.

There was silence for a moment, then Damian's voice was back. " _Yep, B, I uh...am here._ "

This time Dick did facepalm. What a mess.


	9. Back at the Cave Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope the New Year is off to a great start for you all! I wanted to give people a heads up that updates are going to become quite a bit less regular for the next few weeks. I am publishing my first book soon and just got it back from the editor, and will be putting my (limited and easily distracted) attention there for a while. But! I will still be updating this sporadically, never fear! 
> 
> Anyway, this is a short chapter, but hopefully still enjoyable :) Thanks for reading!

Dick sat in the chair next to Tim's bed, staring numbly at the oxygen mask over his brother's face. The slow beep of the medical equipment scarcely registered in his tired brain.

His brother was...kind of ok? Much more ok than what the picture he was staring at would indicate. He and Alfred had given Tim's body a thorough examination, and, as near as they could tell, the closest medical condition to fit Tim's situation was a coma. So, assuming Tim's consciousness got back soon enough, there should be no lasting damage.

But, currently, it was his consciousness Dick was a little more concerned about.

"I am _fine_ ," came Damian's voice from behind him, where the kid was seated on a medical cot. It roused Dick enough to rub his head tiredly. "Just because _Drake_ is now in my body does _not_ mean that I am in any way compromised. Despite what his level of incompetence would possibly do to someone else, I am unaffected."

"Damian, be nice to your brother," Dick said as he turned. Bruce and Jason were running tests and giving Damian...well, Damian _and_ Tim, as it probably would be more accurate to state...a thorough examination now that Tim's body was settled as well as it could be.

"Tt, I see no reason to not speak the truth," Damian replied before glaring at Jason and swatting his hand. "Do not poke me again with a needle. You do not need any more blood."

Jason rolled his eyes, snagging Damian's arm from the air before the kid wrangled it away again. "First, I've only taken one small vial, and second, take that up with your dad. He's the one calling the shots here."

"We need another vial, Damian," Bruce said distractedly, not looking away from whatever test he was setting up.

"Tt, fine. But why did Richard and Todd not have to do this when they were switched?" Damian twisted his arm to expose the crook of his elbow for Jason to take the blood. Jason pricked him, watching the vial fill, before Damian stiffened noticeably.

"You alright?" Jason asked, eyes flicking to his face. He frowned at Damian's lack of response.

"Kid. Brat. _Damian_." Jason's voice tightened, and snapped his fingers in front of the kid's face, but got no reaction. Hastily removing the needle, Jason lightly flicked his brother's forehead. "Damian, talk to me."

That got a flinch from Damian, and he moved to rub the spot as he turned a glare at Jason. "What was that for, Todd?"

"You left us for a moment there," Jason replied, turning away but failing to hide his relief.

"Tt, I did not. Drake was simply being pushy."

Dick frowned at that, and everyone's attention came to rest squarely on Damian. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"He was trying to explain all the reasons why we need these tests, of which I was telling him all the reasons we do _not_ , and he insists on speaking with you. But I do not wish to give him any more chance to worsen our situation than what he's already done."

They all stared at Damian for a moment. Dick was trying to decide what part of that statement to start with when Bruce beat him to it.

"Damian, this is in no way Tim's fault. You will treat him with respect, and if he wants to say something, you will give him the chance." The man fixed his son with a firm look. "Do you understand?"

Damian glanced away. "Yes Father." He stiffened again, then loosened noticeably. Looking around, his eyes flicked over each of them before landing on Tim's prone form.

"Oh..." He ran a hand over his face. "This is so much worse than I thought."

"Damian?" Dick prompted, unsettled by the sudden change.

The kid's eyes snapped to Dick. "Tim, actually. Damian's letting me use his..." Tim frowned. "His whole body, currently." Tim looked to Jason then Bruce, posture tightening with obvious anxiety. "What's...is...would someone give me the rundown of the situation? Damian's been mostly boxing me out since this happened."

"Zatanna accidentally switched you into Damian's body. We're running tests to make sure that you're both stable, and I've already alerted Zatanna of what happened. She's working on a solution and pulling in some favors to get more help." Bruce studied Damian's face. "I told Damian to treat you respectfully and to let you have a chance to say what you want when you want."

Tim relaxed slightly. "Ok. Thanks." His look drifted back to his body. "Can I do anything to help?"

"Currently just do your best to get along with Damian," Bruce said. Dick caught the tension in the request. Everyone knew that the worst part of the situation was that it was Tim and Damian stuck together, not that anyone was stuck together or that they didn't have a solution.

Tim's face fell a bit, but he nodded. "Alright then." He was silent for a moment. "Damian's getting impatient." He gave them one last anxious look before his demeanor changed again.

"Tt, Drake is handling this poorly," Damian commented, getting down from the cot. "If you are finished, I am going to shower and go to bed."

A small sigh escaped Bruce. "Come to the study before you go to bed. I need to talk with you."

Damian tensed slightly at the request, but replied, "Very well." He stalked off toward the showers.

Dick felt tension drain from him he hadn't realized was there. Glancing at Jason, then Bruce, he said, "I sincerely hope they don't kill each other."

Bruce started cleaning up his work area. "They won't." His look shifted for a moment to the bed Tim's body was resting on. "I'm just concerned Damian will make Tim's life miserable until this gets fixed. That's what I'm going to talk with him about." The man turned away, and Dick stood in surprise for a moment at the unusual offering of an explanation before he started helping Jason clean the rest of the area.

But Bruce froze them both as he said over his shoulder, "Are you two alright?"

Dick's look whipped from the back of Bruce's head to Jason, where he found his brother as at a loss for words as he was. Finally finding his tongue, Dick managed to get out, "Yeah, yeah we're doing fine." He glanced at Bruce again before back to Jason, realizing that the reassurance might not actually ring as true for Jason as for him.

"We're getting through," Jason said. Dick winced at the statement, the constant nagging guilt he'd had since Jason's panic attack prodding him harder. Jason glared at him at the movement, and Dick knew he'd failed to hide what he was feeling.

"Good." Bruce strode to the elevator and disappeared behind its doors. Silence hung heavy in the chilled cave.

"Is the world ending and no one told me? Bruce asking how we're doing, and talking to the brat to not make Tim's existence miserable?" Jason muttered, eyes fixed on where Bruce disappeared.

"It's a good possibility," Dick commented, also staring.

Jason shook his head. "The only thing that could make this weirder is if Tim and Damian actually end up enjoying their time together."

"I wouldn't get your hopes up," Dick replied. "I'll just be happy if one of them doesn't end up killing the other."  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! As always, I love comments and feedback, and if you have a request, please drop it below!


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